


Spray Paint Love

by FeralPen



Series: a thought, dear, however scary [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Adults Talking About Their Problems, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Jessica Is Bad At Feelings, Matt is bad at Feelings, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralPen/pseuds/FeralPen
Summary: Jessica Jones and Matthew Murdock fall in love in stages, and of course they're the last ones to know. Featuring semi-official Defenders team-ups, take-out, Matt and Jessica being disasters, and eventual romance - if either of them ever realize that's what they're doing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes.
> 
> Hello everybody! I'm afraid this fic is off to a shaky start. I'm nervous about posting a WIP, but the fic just kept growing longer than I was comfortable making a one-shot. So now it's awkwardly divided into chapters that more or less work as chapters. I don't have a definite posting schedule decided upon, but I have the majority of the story typed up already, so it shouldn't be too drawn out.
> 
> This is not Jessica Jones and Luke Cage seasons 2-compliant. This is a magical place where Matt came back from the dead, and all the horrible stuff in those seasons didn't happen and everyone is relatively safe and happy. If you're gonna write fanfic, you might as well go whole hog in the wish-fulfillment.
> 
> In any case, (hopefully) enjoy.

Jessica Jones was sharp.

Matt made a game of it, sometimes. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t that big, and there were several vigilantes running the streets at night now. Crime was lower than it had been in years. Strange happenings and other weird incidents were never in short supply - the continual push-pull of powered individuals on opposite ends of the morality scale - but the petty criminals were at least making more of an effort to lay low or find better places to practice their trades. There was still plenty to go around, but not every night was full of terror. On slow nights, he’d pick a target and tail them. It was good sport - maybe the Daredevil version of playing nice with the neighbors. 

Luke Cage never noticed him on the rare occasion that the Power Man wandered out of his adopted Harlem. Luke had a way of marching in his steady roll, eyes always forward, headphones usually in. At the very least, his abilities backed up his confidence. It grated on Matt a little, though. Matt, who’d had constant vigilance and hyperawareness drilled into him as a child. He’d usually leave fairly quickly after spotting the human bulwark to go find better sport. Toying with someone who didn’t even look up or into nearby alleys was incredibly boring.

Danny and Colleen were much more fun. They caught on quickly to his game, and many slower nights were spent in a parkour cat-and-mouse with one or both of them. They had yet to truly sneak up on him, but he was a good sport and let them get close sometimes. An unintentional side-effect was that their stealth and infiltration skills were markedly improving. Matt would occasionally reward them by letting them “catch” him on a rooftop with hot takeout and a cold six-pack. They’d spar a bit, eat, and Colleen called them “unoficial Defenders meet-ups.” Matt didn’t correct her. They were good kids.

(Spider-Man occasionally swung by. Nice kid, but definitely wrapped up in Avengers business, which was way above Matt’s pay grade. They would hang out whenever he was around, but the kid had school, and it wasn’t feasible to cross the river that often. Matt, himself, didn’t branch out of Hell’s Kitchen much.)

(There was also some creep running around with katanas who hung around a dive bar even seedier than Josie’s, but Matt tried to avoid him. He was definitely insane. The first thing he said when he’d spotted him was, “Hey, Double D! Cute actor. Glad they didn’t try to dye you ginger.” Yeah, Matt avoided that crazy.)

The only “Defender” Matt couldn’t sneak up on was Jessica. Since he’d met her, he found traces of her all over Hell’s Kitchen. He’d walk home from work and catch a whiff of leather, cheap shampoo, and bourbon on the next street. He’d patrol the Kitchen at night and hear her camera shutter from the fire escapes. Several times, his radar sense picked up her waifish figure leaping into the air, impossibly high.

He could never sneak up on her, though.

He’d tried, of course. Matt Murdock never backed down from a challenge. He was starting to understand what it was like to try to sneak up on himself, however. No matter how he approached, she always saw him coming.

“Don’t you have a purse-snatcher to grab, or a little old lady to help across the street?”

Matt cursed to himself as he gave up trying to be quiet. He grappled down to her level from the rooftop. Jessica was sprawled on a fire escape with her camera and a thermos of coffee that was at least 30% whiskey. He could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Hey there, Devil Boy.”

“Jessica.”

“Any reason you’re dropping in on me in the middle of a case?”

“You have a case?”

He didn’t need sight to feel the unimpressed glare she threw at him. 

“Yes, I have a case. You’re not the only costumed weirdo with a day-job, and it’s not like I hang out around town taking pictures of cheaters and perverts as a hobby.”

Matt laughed. “Do people do that for fun?”

Jessica hummed and waved her free hand in a so-so gesture. “Bored teenagers with a photojournalism class and their first camera?”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Do you actually have some reason to be here, or are you just lonely? Because if that floozy down there with the knock-off designer handbag and the expensive dye job isn’t my client’s husband’s mistress, I’ll die of shock. You’re blocking my camera.”

Matt tilted his head and heard the clacking of heels walking towards the building across from him, smelled minty mouthwash and middle-tier perfume applied too thickly on top of clothes that still smelled like a department store. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’ll leave you to it. Good evening, Miss Jones.” 

Matt clambered back up the fire escape. He could hear her snort, but she refrained from replying. The sound of her camera clicking followed him for the next few blocks.

-

The next time, it was Jessica who ran into him.

Admittedly, he was distracted when she came up. He’d stumbled across a biker roughing up his woman, and his attempts to stop the man from beating her face in were interrupted by a group of the biker’s buddies. Suddenly, it was five against one, and he was holding his own pretty well until the biker’s woman cold cocked him in the back of the head with a beer bottle.

The helmet protected him for the most part, but the impact hurt, and his head spun a bit. He blocked the next strike from the biker holding the length of chain and barely stepped out of the way as one of the bikers suddenly flew past him. He spread his focus back out and caught the scent of cheap strawberry shampoo and the human body scent he associated with Jessica over the already prevalent smell of leather and booze in the alley.

“You jerk-offs want some more?” 

Matt hear a clink as she set her shopping bag down and stepped further into the knot of confused and tense bikers. Her irritation practically rolled off of her in waves, and it didn’t take more than her cracking her knuckles before the group of them broke and ran. She reached out and grabbed the woman before she could run away.

“Hey, you! What’s your deal, huh? ‘He only hits me when he’s drunk?’ Next time somebody tries to help you, try not to assault them, huh?”

The woman was terrified, but she still mustered the gumption to yank on Jessica’s hand and hiss out, “Shut up! He loves me! This costumed fucker was hurting him!”

Matt held up a hand. “Jessica. Please. Let her go.”

There was a beat of silence. Jessica finally threw the woman away from her with a noise of disgust. The woman took her opportunity to run, spitting curses under her breath.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Save it, Devil Boy,” Jessica growled. She stomped over to her bag and picked it back up. 

“You’re angry.” He tilted his head at her. “Why are you angry?”

“Why am I angry? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I was just trying to buy some groceries and I look down this alley just in time to see you getting your ass handed to you by a woman half your size.” She moved to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You sense everything else around you - how’d you miss that bottle coming for you?”

He winced. “I was busy fighting off her friends…”

“Was it that, or did you just assume that she was going to sit tight while you beat those guys into a pulp? Being a perfect little victim for you to rescue? Jesus, Ma- Daredevil, not everybody needs to be saved.”

“He was pounding her face in,” Matt protested. “Was I supposed to just walk on by? You’re right, I shouldn’t have discounted her as a threat, I should have felt it coming, but why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Her heart skipped. Lie. “I don’t give a shit what you do, but that was the dumbest thing I’ve seen in a while. Next time, don’t put your back to a biker just because it’s a woman.”

“Oh, so now I’m sexist.”

“If not that, then just an idiot.”

Matt groaned in frustration and let himself lean against the alley wall. He rubbed at the back of his cowl and winced at the soreness there. That was probably going to bruise, even with the cushioning of the helmet, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have another concussion. 

He heard Jessica take a step forward, her free hand coming up involuntarily. Her heartbeat had changed from a booming thrum of agitation to a hummingbird-quick patter of concern.

“You okay under there?”

“I’m fine,” he growled. She stepped back a little, and her heart rate leapt with adrenaline, so he quickly added, “No, really, I’m fine.” He sighed. “Sorry I snapped. That woman was surprisingly strong, that’s all.”

She sounded skeptical. “You sure? Do you need me to call Claire, or… something?”

“No, I’ll just take some aspirin. I’m not concussed.”

“Sounds like something a concussed person would say.” Still, she started taking steps toward the mouth of the alley. She hesitated again. “Look, I’m.... sorry I was an asshole. Are you sure you’re -”

“I’ll be fine. Really. And Jessica -” He shot her a self-deprecating smirk. “Thank you.”

Her heart fluttered, but she didn’t say anything. Matt listened to her walk away before he hauled himself up the nearest wall and started for home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!
> 
> This story got disgustingly cute and domestic right out of the gate. I intended for it to be an angst-fest, but I found that the angst wasn't angsty enough without showing the stakes. So, sorry, I have to drag you through some happiness and fun before we get to the blood and tears. I'm enjoying writing both, though. The next chapter features some good old-fashioned weeping. This one has pizza. It's a balance.
> 
> Also, Colleen is an official member of the Defenders, and the marketing team can fight me.

Matt had learned early on to never phrase anything as an order to Jessica unless it slipped out during the heat of battle.

He knew why it was - he’d done his research on her, after all. He’d tried not to read anything too detailed from her statements to the police. It had felt… invasive, almost voyeuristic, to pry for details of what was obviously the worst period of her life. He’d gotten the gist, though. Mind controlling man had forced her to do things she didn’t want to do. He figured she’d heard plenty of orders during her year with Kilgrave, so he tried to phrase everything as carefully as he could.

“Hey, Jessica?”

“Mm?”

They were standing on a rooftop. Their paths had crossed by chance. She’d been tailing someone’s wife with her camera, and he’d been following a suspected heroin dealer. They’d met in the middle.

“Would you like to come over to my apartment tomorrow night?” He winced as soon as it came out. Jessica’s heart had started thumping overtime. “No, wait, please don’t punch me. Not a proposition - or at least, not that kind of proposition.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but started slowing back down. He counted it a win. He sensed her brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and shifting her weight.

“Well, damn, Murdock, what other reason do you invite women over to your apartment?”

“Well, you see, Danny, Colleen, and I do this thing. We sometimes meet up on my roof to train. We actually got Luke to agree to come this time, and I just wanted to see if you’d like to come, too?”

“Come ‘train’ with the boy band?” Her tone was dismissive. “No thanks. Not my scene.”

“But Jess,” he turned to her and couldn’t contain some of his breathy enthusiasm. “With yours and Luke’s strength and some of our moves, you guys would be amazing. You’re so strong - think of how much more efficient you would be if we worked together. It would be beautiful.”

Jessica laughed, but it sounded uncomfortable. “You guys are real martial arts nerds, you know that? I’m still not sure I’m interested.”

“Okay,” he said, disappointed, but after a second he perked back up. “Danny’s bringing pizza from that one place you like, though, and Luke’s bringing a whole case of beer.”

“Oh.” There was a pause, and then she lightly punched his arm. “You didn’t say it was a pizza party. Fine. I’ll come and drink all your beer, but don’t get your hopes up about the training.”

Matt’s cheeks hurt from the grin on his face. “Thank you.”

-

To everyone but Matt’s surprise, Jessica actually did show up the next evening. 

“Jess!” Luke grinned wide and immediately dug in the cooler for a beer for her. “Welcome to the semi-official Defenders team-up.”

Jessica caught the bottle he threw her and popped the cap off with her bare hand. The scene on the rooftop was oddly domestic. The hideous billboard on the building across bathed the whole rooftop in light that shifted color. Colleen was perched cross-legged on a blanket on the concrete rooftop, happily shoving a slice of pepperoni into her mouth. Luke had brought an honest-to-God lawn chair and was manning the cooler and a large stack of pizza boxes. Danny and Matt were the only ones who seemed to be taking the ‘training’ aspect seriously, though from where Jessica stood it looked like they were just going through yoga stretches. 

Danny looked over and shot her his widest grin from where he was nearly upside down with one leg up in the air and his arms stretched impossibly. “Jessica! Would you like to join us? We’re just stretching for now.”

Jessica held up her beer. “Nah, I’m just here for the free beer.”

Danny pouted a little, but Colleen gave her a thumbs up, Luke gave a good-natured shrug, and Matt laughed as he untangled himself from the pose he was in. 

“Don’t worry, Danny, we’ll get plenty of practice in,” he said. “It’s good to see you, Jess.”

“Was that a blind joke?” She shared an incredulous glance with Luke.

Matt laughed and shrugged at her. Jessica watched with a suddenly dry mouth as he stretched himself out again, Danny following seamlessly. He’d forgone the Daredevil suit for this, but he was in his old Devil of Hell’s Kitchen getup, complete with the black kerchief covering his face - in case the neighbors saw, she guessed. The shirt and pants clung to him and didn’t leave much to the imagination. She watched for a moment as the next set of poses made his shirt ride up a little. Her eyes were glued to the sliver of skin she could see. Luke cleared his throat behind her.

“What?” she asked.

Luke gave her a pointed look. “Come pick a slice.”

Jessica scowled at his smirk. She wanted to protest, disabuse him of the idea that he’d caught her ogling Matt, but Matt could hear a mouse fart in the next building over and Luke knew her well enough not to believe her if she defended herself. He kept up his smirk as she dug through the boxes and snatched one covered in green peppers and sausage.

“I think it’s cute,” he said. 

“Shut up.”

“What’s cute?” Colleen chimed in.

“Nothing,” Jessica snapped back. She grabbed another beer and joined the girl on the blanket. “Luke’s just being a dick.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Colleen said, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’ll ruin his ‘who, me? I’m a saint’ reputation.”

“I don’t think I’m a saint,” he protested.

“Says the ‘Hero of Harlem,’” she quipped back.

Jessica drained her first beer and popped the cap off of the second. She tuned out Luke and Colleen’s bickering and watched the other two. Matt and Danny had finished stretching, it seemed, and were now trading light, but lightning-fast blows. Danny was doing well. Better than that time that Matt had kind of handed his ass to him during their first team-up. They stopped every once in a while to show each other a move they’d just done. They really were martial arts nerds. She’d never seen them so happy.

“Hey,” Colleen said, interrupting her thoughts. “You ready to try?”

“What?”

The other girl grinned at her. “We can’t let the boys have all the fun, and Matt said he wanted you and Luke to learn some better forms. I’m an instructor. I can show you.”

“I don’t know if I want to join the power of chi club…”  
“You should give it a shot,” Luke piped up from behind them. “She’s been teaching Claire for months, and now Claire kicks some major ass.”

Jessica wanted to turn her down, but Colleen was terrifyingly earnest sometimes. With a groan, she chugged the dregs of her second beer and pulled herself to her feet.

“Fine, but if we start on any yoga-chi-mysticism crap, I’m out.”

Colleen leapt to her feet eagerly. “No worries. We can skip that part. Gotta say, though, a massage and some meditation would go a long way in getting that tension out of you.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” She didn’t seem to be offended by the denial. “Take off your coat. Let me show you how to position your feet.”

It actually wasn’t terrible. Colleen was patient and intuitive, and she didn’t touch Jessica any more than she had to. She also kept her word and didn’t say a single word about energies or chi, keeping all of her advice practical and to the point. Luke joined them early on, and before long, Colleen had them throwing punches at each other in slow motion, offering advice in how to distribute their weight and where to strike to maximize or minimize the use of their uncanny strength.

Matt and Danny had finished up their own fancy routine and were watching them. 

“They look good,” Danny said from around his mouthful of pizza. “This is gonna be so awesome next time we fight somebody together. We’re totally gonna ninja all over them.”

“It’s a good start,” Matt conceded. “But it’s going to take more than this one session to get us up to snuff.”

“We should do this more often, then.”

“I’m not committing to anything,” Jessica protested, stepping out of her stance. “And I need another beer.”

“I suppose we can take a break,” Colleen said. “I’d like you to practice more, though. You need to watch where you put your feet.”

“Let her go,” Matt said. He dug through the cooler and pulled out two beers. “I’m starving. Jess, you want to join me?”

Luke smirked at her again, so she punched his shoulder, harder than they’d been doing earlier. She stomped over and took both of the beers. She popped the tops off and handed one back to Matt. Luke got quickly distracted by Danny and a reluctant Colleen. Danny had this idea for a move where the three of them did some kind of formation that ended with Danny springboarding off of Luke’s back to do a completely unnecessary backflip. Colleen was trying to stop Danny from backflipping right off the roof.

Jessica sat down on the small wall around the edge of the roof. Matt joined her with his beer and pizza. He sat on the rooftop next to her with his back to the edge. His shoulder just barely brushed her calf.

“This is nice,” he said. 

“Speak for yourself,” she returned. “You fit right in with these weirdos.”

“Oh, come on, Jess. You can admit that you’re having a little fun.”

“Never.” Still, she smiled around the lip of her beer.

Matt snorted, catching her lie, but he took a pull of his beer instead of arguing with her. His throat was a long, pale line, dusted with stubble on the underside of his chin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. She shook her head, chugged the rest of her beer, and let out a hearty and undignified belch.

Matt wrinkled his nose at her, but he let out a small burp when he opened his mouth to complain about her beer-and-pizza burps. 

“Disgusting,” she said primly.

“You suck.” He nudged his shoulder into her calf. “But I’m serious about doing this more often. This is nice. It’s nice to know there’s people who have your back, you know? People who can help.”

Jessica picked at the label of her bottle to avoid looking at him. “Maybe.”

He turned his face up towards her and smiled. Even with half his face covered, it was a nice smile. “In any case, I like the company.”

She felt her face get warm, and she coughed. “I’m getting another beer. You want one?”

His smile followed her. “Yeah, I’d like that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody. Sorry I'm behind on replying to comments. I like to respond to all of them, but it's been a long day at work. I'd rather use my energy making another post and writing the next chapter that's been rattling in my brain. 
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by "drinking so much you forget how to even people." I've only done it twice, and I don't recommend it. Never forget to drink water with your alcohol, kiddos. Don't be like Jessica.

Jessica and Luke became regulars at the “meet up on Matt’s rooftop and kick each other around” get-togethers that happened more or less weekly. Luke sometimes brought Claire or Misty Knight. Jessica always came alone, and spent more time drinking than sparring. It worked.

Matt caught a difficult case a few months in. He begged off the meetings for a few weeks. There was just so much paperwork to sift through and so many legal loopholes to research that he just couldn’t take the time off to run the rooftops at night. Danny and Colleen picked up the slack with the criminals in Hell’s Kitchen, and Luke swore there was something urgent in Harlem that coincided with the break.

He ran into Jessica by chance. 

It was nearly midnight. He’d realized by then that he’d forgotten to eat anything for hours, trapped as he was in the epicenter of his personal paperwork disaster that was dominating his living room. The fridge turned out to have nothing but a bottle of hot sauce and two beers in it. With little choice, he shoved some shoes on and grabbed his cane. Time to hit up the nearest late night grocery for something to eat.

He was headed home with his sacks of food when something prickled in his senses. He stepped out of the way and tilted his head. There. He could hear Jessica in a bar the next street over. She was arguing with someone. He hesitated for a just a moment, but ultimately found his feet heading in her direction, nearly forgetting to tap his cane.

From outside the bar, he could hear the bartender and Jessica.

“For the last time, lady, I’m cutting you off.”

“The fuck you won’t gimme another? I jus’ want another damn drink. S’ a bar, isn’t it?”

Matt set his grocery bags by the doorway and entered the bar. He started tapping his way through the patrons towards the bartender’s voice.

“This is a bar, yes. _My bar,_ and I’m cutting you off. You’re drunk as a skunk. You need to get out of here and sleep it off. Need me to call a taxi?”

“Fucking fucker. I don’ need a taxi, I need a drink.”

Matt chose that moment to grab Jessica’s shoulder. “Jess! There you are! You haven’t been answering your phone.”

Jessica turned to him unsteadily. Matt was shocked. He’d seen her tipsy many times, sometimes on the way to drunk, but the bartender was right. She was completely inebriated in a way he’d never seen before. He wondered how much she’d had even before she’d gotten to the bar. 

“Matt?” Her words slurred around the edges. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The bartender seemed to be eyeing him suspiciously. “Do you know this guy?”

Jessica’s head swiveled back to the bar. “Yeah. s’Matt, idiot.”

Matt turned to the bartender and smiled sheepishly. He made sure he turned slightly off-center. He wasn’t above playing the ‘I’m blind and helpless, trust me, I couldn’t hurt a fly’ card when it suited him. 

“Sir, I am so sorry. I apologize for my girlfriend. She’s been having a rough time lately. I’ve been looking all over for her. I was worried sick.” He grabbed Jessica’s elbow and tugged until she slid off the bar stool. “I need to get her home. Thank you so much for taking care of her.”

The bartender was still suspicious, but he seemed mollified. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call a cab?”

“No, thank you. We live close by. We’ll manage. Right, Jess?”

Jessica leaned on him and nodded against his shoulder. He wasn’t 100% sure she knew what she was agreeing to, but he took the win.

“Okay, come on, Jess. Time to walk.”

They made it outside, and he stooped to grab his abandoned groceries. They awkwardly staggered just out of sight of the bar before Matt stopped and folded up his cane. He needed both hands to hold onto the drunken private eye and his groceries, and he figured he could fake being a sighted person long enough to make it to her apartment building.

“Come on, Jess. We’ve only got to make it a block.”

Jessica mumbled sleepily, but she leaned onto him and followed his lead with minimal staggering. He was surprised that she was this complacent, but she seemed perfectly calm and trusting with him. He wasn’t going to complain about not having to fight her every step of the way. Her breath ghosted over his neck as they lurched down the street. 

The block seemed to stretch out forever, but they finally made it up the front steps and through to the elevator. They staggered inside and waited a minute while Matt fumbled around the buttons, looking for the braille label that said Floor 5. He punched the button finally, and was completely blindsided when Jessica suddenly lurched into him and slammed him back into the wall of the elevator.

“Jessica, what are you -”

“Matt,” she breathed out, her face just inches from his. Her breath smelled like whiskey, the pad thai she’d eaten for lunch, and the toothpaste she’d used that morning. “Matt, kiss me.”

His brain screeched to a halt. He didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. Her hands were vice grips on the fabric of his hoodie. Gently, he pushed at her shoulders. She resisted for a second, then yielded. He kept his hands on her shoulders as she leaned away from him.

“No,” he said quietly. He smelled salt. He reached up and cradled her face in his hand. His thumb brushed over her eyelashes. It came away damp with tears. “No, Jessica.”

“Matt, please. I want you to.”

The elevator jolted to a halt. The doors rattled open. Matt pushed on her shoulders again, steering her out of the elevator. 

“No, Jessica,” he repeated. “It’s not - This isn’t the right time for that.”

He could hear her let out a quiet sob, and his heart shattered a little. He’d never seen her like this. They staggered the rest of the way to her door. There was an awkward moment while he fumbled with her jacket pockets, digging for her keys. Jessica couldn’t help. She was still sobbing quietly. Matt heard a door open.

“Oh, Jessica.” It was a young man. He approached them gingerly. “Here, I’ve got a spare.”

The young man let them into the apartment and helped Matt lug Jessica through the main room into her her bedroom, where she flopped onto her bed. The young man unzipped her boots and tugged them off. Matt helped him pull her jacket off and roll her into recovery position. She was mostly asleep now. At least she’d stopped sobbing.

They stepped back out into the main room and hovered awkwardly. Something clicked.

“You must be Malcolm.”

The young man jumped a little, but he nodded vigorously. Matt decided he liked the sound of his hair.

“Yeah, I’m Jessica’s assistant. I help her with Alias, and sometimes when she gets like… this.”

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Matt confessed. 

Malcolm hummed. “I know, man, but she’s got a pretty good reason.” He hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “It’s the anniversary today. Of the day we both met Him. Kilgrave. It’s… Yeah, I know why she’s so messed up. I would want to climb into a bottle, too, but I just got another chip at AA.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. “I, um, I have to go.”

“Yeah, man, I feel you. Hey, you’re Matt Murdock, right? I recognize you from the police station.”

“That’s what they call me.”

He laughed quietly, without any mirth. “Thank you for bringing her home safe. She really likes you, you know? She’ll never tell you, but I can tell by how she talks about you. You seem like a pretty decent guy.”

“I don’t know about all that.” Matt said. He fumbled around, realized he must have left his groceries in the elevator. He pulled out his cane instead. “Hey, Malcolm, can you make sure she’s…?”

“Yeah, way ahead of you. I’m gonna put some Tylenol by her bed and some water and Gatorade. I’ve got her.”

“Thank you.” Matt didn’t know what else to say, so he fled. His groceries were still in the elevator. He grabbed them and made his way home.

He nearly texted her the next morning, but thought better of it. What do you say after you’ve seen someone at a low like that? “Hope you’re feeling better?” “Sorry you got kidnapped by a psychopath and it messed you up?” “Hope you’re not embarrassed you asked me to kiss you when you were wasted?” No, better not.

He got a text himself around noon from an unknown number.

_Got your number from Jess’s phone_

_This is malcolm btw_

_She’s okay. Thanks again._

Matt thought about it for a minute before he dictated a reply.

_No, thank you Malcolm. Tell her I’m here if she needs me._

He never heard back from Jessica.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time. Kind of just transitioning into the set up for the "angsty broken cookies" arc.

Matt won the case. The meet-ups on his roof started happening again. Jessica was suspiciously absent.

“What spooked her?” Colleen asked.

“I don’t know,” Matt lied. 

Luke wasn’t put off as easy. He pulled Matt to the side when Colleen and Danny were busy doing some warm-ups. 

“What happened to Jess, man? She hasn’t been answering her phone.”

Matt sighed and scrubbed at his chin. It was teetering on the edge of ‘artfully scruffy’ and ‘short, patchy beard.’ He really needed to shave. “I really don’t know, Luke. Maybe she just needs some space. She wasn’t doing well last time I saw her.”

The bigger man hummed. “Maybe you should talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.”

“Jessica will come to us when she’s ready to. I’m not gonna force the issue on her. It’s not a big deal. If you’re that worried, you go talk to her.”

“No, maybe you’re right. Besides, Jessica and I have… history. I try not to bother her.”

The way he said it prickled at Matt’s mind. That kind of history, then. He stomped down any feelings of jealousy. It obviously hadn’t worked out, and Jessica didn’t act like a woman pining for a taken man. Besides, it was none of his business.

“Come on,” he said instead. “Let’s go punch each other.”

-

Matt did hear from Jessica eventually. 

It wasn’t much. His client needed the services of a private detective, and he just so happened to know an excellent agency. He sent her to Alias Investigations and didn’t think much of it until his phone alerted him of a text message.

It was from Jessica.

_Thanks for the client._

He dictated a reply.

_No problem._

And that was that.

A few days later, he was reading a book when he heard her coming into his building. He smelled the thai takeout from his living room. He let her make it to the door and knock, though. Foggy had told him it was creepy to open the door before someone had a chance to knock.

Jessica stood in the doorway, her posture guarded. Tension radiated off of her.

“Jessica? Do you want to come in?”

She hesitated. “This is stupid. Ugh. I just - “ She thrust the takeout bag in his direction. “Peace offering.”

“Thank you,” he said as he gingerly took the bag. “It’s nice of you, but, uh, what’s the occasion?”

He could hear the wry smirk in her voice. “The occasion? It’s ‘sorry for what I said when I was drunk.’”

“Ah, classic.” He gestured for her to come in. She hesitantly stepped through and he followed her to the kitchen island. “I’m impressed that you even remember that night. You were pretty out of it.”

“I remember enough.” She walked away to go sit on his couch and did a pretty good job feigning nonchalance. He could hear her picking up his book and running her hands over it. “I made an ass of myself.”

Matt shrugged as he grabbed some plates. “Who hasn’t ever made an ass of themselves? I don’t hold it against you. Your assistant, Malcolm… He didn’t overload me with details, don’t worry, but he told me the gist of why you went overboard like that.” He set the plates on the table with some forks. “I’ve been in a bad place before, too. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Anyway, you brought enough to share. You eating?”

“Yeah.” Jessica set the book down and took a seat at the table. “Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

“If it makes you feel better, apology accepted.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and joined her at the table. “So, why don’t we put it behind us and complain about work? I’ve had some crazy clients this month. You have any stories?”

She took the bait. “When don’t I have stories? I bet I’ve had even more psychos than you.”

It was good. Jessica slowly let go of her tension as the evening wore on. She even insisted on at least taking the dishes to the sink and leaving the leftovers in the fridge for him. They avoided talking about that night, and Matt kept them steered into fairly light topics. 

They hesitated at the door when it was time for her to leave. 

“Thank you,” Jessica blurted. “Again. For not making a big deal about it.”

“It was nothing,” Matt replied. 

The silence was oppressive. He felt like there was something else he should do. _Matt, kiss me._ Nope, no, definitely not that. By the time he kicked his brain into submission, the moment was over. She was turning the knob to let herself out.

“Thursday.”

She stopped and looked at him. He swallowed.

“We’re meeting up here on Thursday. Luke’s bringing ‘southern soul food’ from some place he and Claire found. You should come. The others miss you.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. “The others missed me, huh?” He could hear her smirk.

Matt took a leap and gave her a shred of honesty. “I missed you.”

Her heart fluttered. She stepped back, away from him, through the doorway. He could hear her swallow.

“No promises. See you, Devil Boy.”

She was practically running before he could rasp out, “Goodbye, Jess.”

He listened to her walk away until she disappeared into the city.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awesome news, guys! I figured out the last couple of road blocks, and this story is officially only half a chapter shy of finished. In celebration, here's a chapter in which things happen, medical inaccuracies abound, I'm sure, and Luke is my big awkward muse.

“Good job, man.”

Matt looked up, confused, but he brought his fist up to meet the one Luke offered him in a bump. “Good job with what?”

Luke laughed. “Good job bringing Jessica back. It’s good to have the whole gang here.”

Matt hunched his shoulders and focused on the okra on his plate. “You know Jessica. She goes where she wants to. I didn’t do anything.”

“Whatever you say, man. She listens to you, that’s all. More than she listens to most people.”

He hummed noncommittally and took another bite of okra. Whether he had anything to do with it or not, he had to admit that it was nice to have everyone together again. Danny had slowly brought more chairs to the rooftop that were now permanent installations. Colleen had hung up a string of Christmas lights to compete with the billboard that she assured him looked nice. Luke had hooked up a Bluetooth speaker with quiet music playing. It was more like a barbecue at this point than a training session, but nobody was complaining. Matt was glad that all of his neighbors were both elderly and hard of hearing. The abundance of vigilantes on his roof would have been hard to explain.

He smiled as his radar sense picked up Jessica parked on a chair near the cooler. Colleen was kneeling on the rooftop in front of her as she french braided the younger woman’s hair. It was sweet how Colleen had warmed up to her. Danny joked that he was going to buy her a matching leather jacket so they could be twins. Colleen always punched him, but Matt could tell how pleased the idea made her. 

This was perfect, he realized. Everyone here had no secrets about their powers, he didn’t have to hide anything. There wasn’t that undercurrent of tension that plagued his friendships with Foggy and Karen. Up here, on this roof, he was free.

Of course that’s when he heard the gunfire.

“Guys, we have trouble.” 

Luke cut out the music, and the rest of them followed him to the edge of the roof where Matt was perched, tilting his head to the city.

“Where?” Luke asked.

“The docks. Gunshots. Sounds like gang warfare.”

“Should we leave it to the cops?”

Matt shook his head. “There’s a lot of guns. If we don’t do something, innocent people might get hurt.”

“Just a thought, but only one of us is bulletproof,” Jessica piped up. “If we go there, we might get hurt.”

“You can come or you can go, but I can’t let people get hurt in my city.” With that, Matt leapt off the roof and grappled down to street level.

“You idiot,” he heard Jessica curse at him. “You’re not wearing your good suit!”

“Alright, guys, let’s go bust some heads,” Luke sighed as he followed Matt.

Matt didn’t have time to worry about it. He would have preferred to be wearing the suit Melvin made him, with its knife- and flame-resistant fabric, but it wouldn’t have stopped bullets either. He was just going to have to try not to get shot.

The rest of the Defenders caught up with him near the shipyard. The gunshots were still ringing out periodically, and he could hear sirens in the distance.

“Matt, what’s going on?” Danny asked, breathless.

“They’re still shooting. It’s gangs, just like I thought. I smell drugs from those busted crates. Two groups of shooters. They’re moving towards those warehouses.”

“So, what’s the plan? Run in swinging?” Luke asked.

“Pretty much.”

-

“Let me say it on record that Daredevil’s plans _suck_ ,” Danny groused.

“They call him the ‘Man Without Fear,’ not the ‘Man Who Thinks Ahead,’” Colleen said wearily from where she was slumped on the ground.

“Yeah, your plan was pretty awful,” Spider-Man chimed in from where he was clinging to the wall.

Yeah, Spider-Man.

“Please don’t mention this the next time you run with the Avengers,” Luke begged.

Jessica ignored all of them, limping straight past them to Daredevil himself, who was pressing his black mask into the gunshot wound in his abdomen that he had assured them was a clean through and through, didn’t knick anything too important. She sure hoped that was true, because she grabbed his shirt and threw him into the chain link fence behind him.

“Jess-”

“You idiot,” she hissed. “What the fuck was that?”

“We stopped the drug dealers from shooting each other,” he said breathlessly. “The man with the fishbowl on his head was a surprise, honestly, but -”

She shook him and he hissed in pain. They both ignored Spider-Man piping up “It’s Mysterio.” and Luke’s warning of “Jess…”

“Run in with no plan and get yourself shot? That was your best idea?” 

“Not the best idea I’ve ever had, but it worked out okay.” His vacant eyes stared imploringly at her left ear.

“You are the stupidest man I’ve ever met.”

“Jess, you’re bleeding -”

She shook him again, rattling the chain link. “Shut up! Shut up! Do you even hear yourself? You just nearly died running in wearing a pair of pajamas against a warehouse full of guys with guns, and you’re worrying about me? Jesus Christ.”

“Please, Jess, I’m sorry. Just, can you please let go of me? You need to put pressure on your leg.”

“Shut up, you fucking martyr.”

She crashed their lips together. 

He had blood in his teeth. Her lip had a split in the middle. Their blood ran together as she mashed her lips into his mercilessly. It wasn’t a perfect kiss. Their teeth clacked together uncomfortably, and the blood was an unfortunate metallic note, but he still moaned quietly when she swiped her tongue over his bottom lip.

Somewhere behind them, Luke coughed, and Spider-Man gave an undignified squeak.

They broke apart. 

Matt was panting a little, but he still rasped out, “Now will you let Luke take a look at your leg?”

She could hit him.

She let go of him and he slumped against the chain fence without her support. Luke walked up to them carefully. His face seemed to be warring between gentle concern and a smirk.

“Jess, you’ve been shot.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, genius.”

Spider-Man perked up. “The police have finally started moving away. I think the coast is clear.”

“Finally, some good news,” Colleen moaned.

“Here.” Luke took off the shreds of his hoodie and tied them around Jessica’s leg. “Think you can walk as far as Daredevil’s apartment?”

“Well, I’m not letting you carry me.” She cut a glance over to Daredevil. He was looking a little pale and sweaty. The red marks on his face were darkening to bruises. “What about him?”

“I’m fine,” he said. Predictably.

“You don’t look so fine,” said Danny. Danny was her new favorite.

“Okay, buddy,” Luke said, sidling up to Daredevil like a spooked horse. “Claire’s waiting at your place, and she’ll kill me if you bleed to death on the way there. Can you spare us both the lecture and just let me carry you?”

For a grown man, Matt did an amazing impression of a pouty toddler. He crossed his arms and scowled at Luke.

“Absolutely not.”

Luke sighed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Please, man?”

“Devil Boy,” Jessica barked. He straightened up incrementally. “Lean on Luke. If you bleed to death, I’ll kill you.”

Matt’s pout deepened, but he reluctantly threaded his arm over Luke’s shoulders. They started staggering towards the mouth of the alley.

“This team-up was pretty cool,” Spider-Man gushed. “Nice to finally meet the famous Defenders. Besides Double D, but he’s just one guy. A cool, Batman kind of guy, but just a guy. I’d love to stay and see the Bat-Cave - or Devil-Cave? Devil Hideout? - but I gotta run. I’d better let Mr. Stark know we caught Mysterio and make sure he gets sent to the Raft. Text me. Call me. Love to team up again sometime. Toodles!” The bubbly super-spider webbed away before anyone else could get a word in edgewise.

“What a strange child,” Danny said. He heaved Colleen to her feet. She wasn’t hurt, but she looked exhausted. She gave Jessica a vague wave as she and Danny shuffled out behind Luke and Matt. 

Jessica took the moment of stillness to take a deep breath and unclench her fists. With a heavy sigh, she limped out of the alley and followed the group to Matt’s apartment. 

Danny and Colleen split off to head to the dojo, and true to her word, Claire had let herself into Matt’s apartment and had set up a makeshift triage unit with her big medical kit.

“I’m impressed,” she said dryly as Luke dumped Matt onto his couch as gently as he could. “You guys managed not to get shot or stabbed for a record streak this time. Yet here we are again.”

“Thank you, Claire,” Matt said quietly. Claire’s face softened for the barest second before her professional badass persona took over. 

“Matthew Murdock, how many times have I told you that you’re not actually bulletproof?”

Jessica tuned out Claire’s good-natured nagging and started heading for the cabinet she knew Matt kept a bottle of scotch and some tequila. Luke’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Jess…”

Jessica rolled her eyes and shrugged him off. “Oh come on, Luke.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “But it’s the rules. No alcohol until Claire clears you.”

“We have rules now? I don’t remember having rules.”

“Jessica, would you kindly get your ass over here so I can pull the bullet out of your leg?” Claire asked from where she was in the middle of flushing out the hole in Matt’s abdominal cavity. She didn’t look up, but Jessica could still feel the mom glare from where she was standing.

“It’ll go faster if you comply,” Matt hissed while nodding sagely. He held up a Gatorade and waved it enticingly. “Electrolytes.”

Luke gave her a raised eyebrow. Outnumbered, Jessica groaned and snatched the sports drink and limped as sullenly as possible to the chair by the medical kit. She took a big swig and stared mournfully at the liquor cabinet.

“I’ll get to you next,” Claire promised. She glanced over from where she was threading a needle to give Jessica a smile. “This idiot is a little less durable than you, despite what he thinks.”

Jessica shrugged uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t bother. I heal fast. Usually I just slap some duct tape on top for a couple days and call it good.”

Claire paused with her needle hovering over Matt’s skin to give Jessica a horrified look. “Uh, no. No, we’re not going to be doing that. We’re going to be cleaning it out, and pulling the bullet out - unless you want to be stuck in TSA hell anytime you fly for the rest of your life - and antibiotics. So many antibiotics. Your gut flora will never recover from how many antibiotics I’m going to give you.”

“I haven’t gotten an infection yet,” she said stubbornly.

The nurse shook her head and went back to jabbing the needle into Matt, muttering something about “flesh-eating bacteria” under her breath. Matt, for his part, seemed to have found some kind of hippie zen and looked awfully calm for a guy getting sewn back together. Though, judging from his body, it wasn’t his first rodeo. Jessica sipped her Gatorade while she counted the lines of scars all over just the visible part of his body. She felt herself getting irritated again, so she looked away to where Luke was leaned against the kitchen counter, playing with his phone. She jumped when Matt spoke up.

“Hey, Jess, can you pass me a Gatorade?”

She fumbled the cap onto hers and leaned forward to dig in the duffle that Claire had brought. It was stuffed full of bottles of saline, gauze, and rattling pill bottles, but there were also bottles of water and sports drinks and a couple boxes of protein bars. 

“Do you have a preference?” she asked.

Matt grimaced. It was either at the question, or at the flap of skin Claire was tugging closed. “Anything is fine. They’re all disgusting.”

“Disgusting, but full of salts, sugars, and electrolytes,” Claire hummed. They’d obviously had this argument before.

Jessica grabbed a yellow one just to be petty - she hated the lemon lime, personally - and passed it over to him. He didn’t open it, just rubbed his thumb over the seal, back and forth. The silence stretched out.

“Anyone hungry?” Luke piped up. “I’m starving. I’m getting subs. Who wants a sub?”

Jessica gave him a flat look. Claire rolled her eyes and quietly asked Matt to turn over so she could get the exit wound. Luke wilted a little, but marched over and grabbed a fresh hoodie Claire had brought anyway. 

“Yep. Subs. I’ll go get subs.” He retreated out the door.

Claire laughed after he left. “He hates this part. He doesn’t like not being able to help.”

“It’s not my favorite part either,” Matt said mildly.

“You don’t get a vote,” she threw back. “You know how many times I’ve stitched you back together now? No? Me neither. How about next time you try not getting shot?”

“I didn’t mean to get shot.”

Jessica watched with sick fascination as Claire efficiently finished her line of stitches as tied it off. There were more scars on his back, she noted. How many times had they ended up here, Matt half-dead and Claire putting him back together? How many times would they keep doing it, until Matt’s skin was more scar than anything else? Until there wasn’t anything of him left? She watched Matt sit up, wincing, watched them tape bandages over the whole mess. His knuckles were red and swollen. One of them was cracked open. The bruises on his face were even darker now. Jessica felt cold.

“Okay, your turn,” Claire interrupted her thought. “Pants off.”

Jessica set her sports drink down and started untying the hoodie on her leg. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Claire. People will talk.”

“Let them talk,” she laughed. She offered her arm for support as Jessica peeled her jeans down and off. The whole left leg was a bloody mess. She needed to buy more pants. “Hm, yeah, pretty sure the bullet’s still in there. You’re lucky it missed your femoral artery. How long do you think it’ll take your body to heal?”

Jessica shrugged. “A couple days, maybe.”

“Interesting.” Claire seemed to tune her out as she readied her tools and put on fresh gloves. “Anesthetic?”

Jessica shook her head mutely. She watched Matt as Claire sterilized a pair of tweezers. He was still worrying the bottle of sports drink between his hands. His mouth was a thin line. The skin around his eyes was tight. They winced in unison when Claire dug the tweezers into her leg. 

“Sorry, just a second. I can feel it,” Claire muttered. Jessica grit her teeth and clenched her fists. “There we go. Got it. You alright?”

“Peachy,” she gritted out. She looked away from Matt to watch Claire flush the wound with saline and pack gauze over the top. When she looked up again, Matt was pulling himself to his feet. 

“Need to make a phone call,” he said before either of them could protest.

He wandered off to his room. A minute later, Jessica could hear him speaking quietly to someone on the phone.

“Hi, Foggy. I know it’s late, sorry…. Yeah, yeah, I did something stupid… No, I’m alright…. Well, I got shot - no, really, I’m fine. Claire is with me… No, you don’t have to…”

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” Claire said primly.

Jessica snapped back into the living room and flushed slightly. Claire was giving her a knowing look.

Jessica gave an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry,” she said insincerely. “Habit. My business is literally based around being nosy.”

“In a way, so is mine.” The nurse finished stuffing the bloody gauze into a garbage bag and stripped off her gloves. “So, you and Matt.”

Her heart stuttered over itself. “Me and Matt what?”

Claire gave her a distinctly unimpressed look. “Are you going to make me spell it out?”

Jessica turned her head away. “There is no me and Matt.”

“That’s not what Luke tells me.”

“Luke needs to mind his own business.”

Claire walked back from the kitchen and sat down on the couch. Matt continued his phone conversation in the background. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

Jessica gave her an ugly smirk. “If this is a safe sex talk, then you’re a few years too late, doc.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Claire’s tone was harsh, but her expression was compassionate. “Look, I get it. I’ve been there. You get drawn in by the hero thing, the gentle warrior vibe he gives off. He makes you feel safe, but there’s a dark side, there. Like, fundamentally broken dark side. Matt’s thrown himself headlong into this quest of his to save the city, and I don’t think he can put it down. You’ve seen how far he’s willing to take it.” There was a moment of silence as they both remembered Midland Circle, watching the building fall down. Claire sighed. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m not saying he’s not a good guy, because he is. He’s just… I don’t want you to fall into this thing with him and end up hurt. He means the best, but at the end of the day, he loves this city more than I think he can ever love any one person. Just… be realistic, going into this.”

Jessica felt a muscle jump in her jaw. She swallowed and picked her sports drink back up to roll it between her hands. She finally choked out, “I don’t know what ‘this’ is.”

Claire reached over and touched her arm. “You two need to talk about it. Just be honest with each other. And if you ever need to talk, well, you have my number. I’ll always answer.”

Jessica didn’t know what to say, and Claire seemed to get that. She nodded and went back over to the kitchen. Jessica could hear her rummaging through the cabinets and filling the kettle from the sink.

Matt wandered back in. He’d changed into sweat pants with socks tucked over them and a baggy Columbia t shirt. It probably belonged to his lawyer friend. He carefully tiptoed around the mess of medical supplies and offered Jessica some sweat pants.

“Here. Your pants probably need to soak. You can borrow some of mine.” When she didn’t respond, he lowered the pants a little and licked his lips. “Um, sorry. It’s just, we’re about the same height, and I thought you’d want something to wear. I don’t have anything else.”

Jessica shook herself out of her funk and took the pants from him. He actually smiled at her, a real smile, small and hesitant. She swallowed. “Thanks.”

She carefully shimmied into the pants - slightly overlong in the leg and wide around the hips - while Matt lowered himself onto the couch again with only a small hiss of pain.

“Green tea, black tea, or, um, passionfruit herbal,” Claire read off of the back of a box.

Matt grimaced. “That last one’s Foggy’s. I would love some green tea, if you would?”

“Sure thing. Jess?”

“I’m not a tea drinker,” she hedged. 

“Gotcha. Both of you finish those Gatorades, though. You need the salts.”

Matt finally peeled his open and grimaced. He started resolutely gulping his with the air of a man being marched to a firing squad. Jessica smirked and sipped hers more sedately.

“Luke’s coming up the stairs,” Matt said.

Claire hummed. The kettle was starting to make noise. Right on cue, the front door opened.

“Who wants subs?”

Luke cast an obvious eye over the three of them. Jessica scowled at him. Claire and Luke locked into some kind of nonverbal communication that had Luke joining her in the kitchen. Claire pulled the kettle off the burner before it could start whistling and poured it into a mug. Luke was giving her more loaded expressions. Claire shook her head. She brought the mug over to the living room and set it on the coffee table.

“I’m going to give each of you a course of antibiotics to take,” she said as she started sweeping medical supplies into her duffle. “I want you to take the full course. I may not have powers, but trust me, I’ll know if you don’t take them.”

Luke brought over two sandwiches and set them on the coffee table as well. He cast another obvious glance between Jessica and Matt. Jessica flipped him off. He just smirked and helped Claire zip everything up.

“Alright,” she said. “Eat your subs, drink your fluids, and call me if you bleed to death. Luke and I are going home now.”

Jessica’s heart sank. “You’re leaving?”

The two traitors were already racing for the door. “Yep. You’ll be fine. Goodnight!”

They slammed the door, leaving the two of them alone in the apartment. There was dead silence. Matt broke it by snorting.

“That was subtle.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story had a weird way of just kind of writing itself. The characters were always wanting to do things that I hadn't actually expected them to do. Hence, half of the story is emotionally constipated adults attempting to communicate, utterly screwing it up, and needing third party intervention to force them to act like adults and talk things over. Unfortunately for Matt and Jessica, there are no third parties in this chapter.
> 
> A side note: as a Catholic with an anxiety-induced stutter, I am so incredibly happy to have a superhero to identify with who is also a Catholic with a situational stutter. I never knew I needed it until I saw it. Thanks, Daredevil creators.

Matt listened to Claire and Luke race down the stairs and out to the street. Unbelievable. They really had some nerve. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, though, after the conversation he’d overheard Claire and Jessica having.

He snorted. “That was subtle.”

Jessica snapped back to attention from where she’d been staring at the door with her jaw slack. Now it was tense. He could hear her teeth grinding together. 

“Did they really just do that?”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p.’ He shrugged his shoulders and threw an antibiotic in his mouth. He could hear Jessica cursing as he chugged the disgusting sports drink the rest of the way down.

“If you’re really bothered, I can get you a cab,” he offered. “It was pretty shitty of them to strand you here.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jessica snapped. She stood up and lurched over to his liquor cabinet on her bandaged leg. He heard the cork pop off of the Patron. She rifled in the cabinets and came out with a coffee mug. She brought both back to the living area and started pouring.

“So, are we going to talk about it?”

The pouring stopped abruptly. After a beat, she splashed some more into the mug and shoved the cork back in. “Talk about what?”

Matt leaned forward to grab his mug of tea. The movement pulled on his stitches and sore muscles, but he barely winced. You could get used to anything, he mused. Even mortal wounds. It still hurt less than the time he nearly got disemboweled by Nobu. The mug was a comforting heat on his hands.

“You kissed me.”

Jessica snorted and took a sip of the tequila. “I kiss a lot of people,” she hissed as it went down. “Don’t read too much into it.”

Her heart was hammering. Matt could feel his own thudding uncomfortably in his chest. He remembered Claire’s words. ‘Fundamentally broken’ stood out. ‘Incapable of loving one person more than the city’ was another. It stung. All of it. The entire bitch of a situation stung.

“Do you normally kiss them in front of an audience?”

She took another swig instead of answering. Her nails tapped on the mug nervously. She was working up to saying something.

“It was spur of the moment. I didn’t plan on it.” She fiddled with the mug more, turning it over in her hands. “Like I said, don’t read too much into it.”

“I read too much into everything,” Matt breathed out in a sigh. He sipped his tea. Every muscle ached. He was so tired. “I can’t… I feel everything, Jess. I can’t help it. I try to respect people’s boundaries, try not to tune in, but it still trickles in. You’ve wanted to kiss me for a while now. I just don’t know what else you want.”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Well, since you decided to act on your impulses in front of the entire team, I’d say yeah, we do.”

“Oh fuck you, Matt,” she said without heat. She sounded as tired as he felt. “Don’t fucking pin blame on me like I did something wrong. I just… did what I wanted to do. So unless you’re telling me that you feel violated or something, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’d do it again, if I could do it over.”

Matt gave up on his tea and leaned forward again to set it on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees and tried his best to angle in face towards hers. He’d forgotten to grab his glasses from the bedroom. He missed them suddenly, fiercely. Jessica always saw so much.

“I’m not opposed to more kissing,” he said diplomatically. “If that’s something that you want to do. I was surprised when you kissed me, but it wasn’t a bad surprise. I’m not angry with you.”

“Well, I’m angry with you,” she said. They both fell silent. Jessica sounded like she was having a revelation. “I am. I am so, so angry with you, Matt.”

Matt leaned back again and crossed his arms. “Okay…”

“I’m beyond angry. I’m fucking pissed.” Her voice rose with every word. “ _You_ \- You go around all the time playing this holier-than-thou card, telling everyone to be safe, training everybody to fight better, arranging these team-ups - it’s all bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” he said quietly. 

She ignored him. “You know why it’s bullshit? It’s bullshit because you go around, acting like you care about everyone when really, you’re playing out this martyr story for yourself. How do you think we felt when you stayed behind at Midland Circle?”

Matt flinched. A thousand excuses came to mind. A thousand apologies. A thousand justifications. Jessica didn’t want any of them, he knew. He remained silent.

“We _mourned_ for you, Matt. Danny blamed himself for not stopping you. Claire blamed herself for not saving you. Your friends had a memorial service for you. You missed all that, but we felt it when you died.”

He heard the cork pop out of the tequila again. She refilled her mug, higher than the first time. He listened to her swallow.

“And now you’re back, and it’s been good. Danny and Colleen, they love you. Luke respects you. Claire… Even your friends that you pushed away, they welcomed you back. My fucking intern loves you, and he’s only talked to you once.”

Matt flinched again when she slammed the coffee mug on the table. He heard the ceramic crack.

“You just keep doing this. You keep fighting this crusade like it’s the most important thing, but you forget that the people you fight with, who love you, they’re the most important thing. You throw yourself into fights like you don’t even care, and you’re going to die one day.”

Her breath hitched. The tequila must have hit her, because he smelled salt from the tears in her eyelashes. None of them fell from there. They just clung, tiny vibrations on the impression he had of her face.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day, Matt, and you’re not going to come back this time. You’ll be dead for real, and then… what will we do?”

Matt let himself slide onto the floor. Jessica stiffened in surprise as he came to kneel at her feet, like a saint lying in supplication before the altar. He brought his forehead down and rested it on her knee. His arms hung uselessly at his side.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I’m sorry. I can’t…. I’m sorry.”

He felt a hesitant hand brush his hair. He brought his arms up and hugged them loosely around her calf. Her heart was hammering, but so was his. The hand brushed through his hair more confidently. He swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Thoughts raced through his head, but every word died before it touched his lips. She was hurt, and he didn’t know how to fix it. She deserved a better answer than this, but this was all he had to give her. 

She kept petting his hair. She didn’t say anything. He wanted to make promises. He wanted to explain. He wanted to do anything to stop her from crying again. He couldn’t do any of those things.

“I’m tired,” she said.

This, this he could fix. He dragged himself to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation. She gently steered him around the coffee table, for which he was glad. He was so tired that his radar sense felt fuzzy around the edges. The evening felt like it had been days ago. They were well and truly into the night now.

He led her to bed, and she didn’t protest when he directed her to slip in amongst the silk sheets.

“I’ll take the couch,” he said. He started to walk away, but her hand reached out for his.

“You… You don’t have to go,” she said. “You can stay.”

They were so tired. He just nodded and slipped in with her. He didn’t move to touch her. It was Jessica who hesitantly scooted herself just close enough that their knees brushed. He reached a hand out, and she took it. He rested a moment, breathing in the smell of Jessica entangled in his sheets. His own sweat-and-human and unscented soap mingled with her leather and strawberry shampoo and tequila. He felt himself relaxing. 

Impulsively, he bridged the gap between them and kissed her forehead, right at the hairline. She inhaled softly. Neither of them spoke.

They fell asleep like that, knees and hands entwined.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm throwing this chapter to the wolves.
> 
> Okay, but seriously. I was going to post this chapter yesterday, but I looked at it again and realized that it needed to basically be rewritten. Jessica was doing too much of my own "deflect uncomfortable stuff with humor" instead of speaking with her own voice. So I did that this morning. Normally I'd let it sit longer and edit again before posting, but I'm so done with these two right now.
> 
> It should be noted that neither Jessica nor Matt are actually good at communicating in a healthy way. Take it into account for this chapter that neither of them are clearly stating what exactly they're talking about. There's a lot of jumping to conclusions and reacting instead of thinking things through. It's been frustrating to write.

Jessica was not in her bed.

She opened her eyes with a gasp.

She catalogued things as her breathing picked up. Plain walls, crooked pictures hung with wire. Silk sheets under her skin. Sunlight streaming in through the window. A man’s arm slung over her hip, his body curved around her own. No impersonal smell of hotel rooms or borrowed apartments, no cloying expensive cologne. 

Kilgrave was dead. She’d killed him.

“Main Street.” She was in Matt Murdock’s apartment.

“Birch Street.” Matt Murdock was the man behind her, and he was obviously awake, judging by the way his arms were slowly retracting from her body.

“Higgins Drive.” Kilgrave was dead, and she was safe here.

She kept breathing until she stopped hyperventilating. Her heart slowed down. She rolled over.

Matt was carefully not touching her, and his face was blank. His hair stuck up in all directions, and even covered in bruises, he was cute. Sleep-tousled, but alert. Her heart hurt looking at him like this, illuminated in the morning light. If only the context were different. 

Jessica reached up and flicked his nose with her finger. He wrinkled it at her, making that pouty face of his. “I’m not made of glass. I’m fine.”

He nodded and fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “I was just...giving you space. It’s not the same, but I get… overwhelmed sometimes. I didn’t think you would want me to hover.”

“Overwhelmed?” she asked. .

He raised one shoulder in a shrug and didn’t answer. The silence was starting to become oppressive. Jessica slipped out of bed.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

He nodded again.

She found the bathroom easily. She’d never been in it before, but it was as bare and undecorated as the rest of the apartment. She wondered if he knew that some of the lights in the fixture were burnt out. There was enough light to see, though, so she took the opportunity to snoop.

The medicine cabinet was a bust. Nothing but aspirin, a tube of toothpaste, and a box of floss. The toothbrush holder had three brushes in it, which was something. The towels were an unmatched mixture of colors. A pump bottle of unscented lotion marketed for sensitive skin. An electric razor in the cabinet. The tub was slightly scummy - he probably didn’t notice the rings around the edge - and the few bottles of soap and shampoo were all unscented or marked as good for sensitive skin. There wasn’t much else.

She finally decided to pee, and, with slightly guilty shrug, borrowed some of his - also unscented, she was sensing a theme - deodorant. 

Matt was in the kitchen when she came out. He wasn’t wearing his sweats anymore - instead in his usual dress shirt and slacks. He’d also put his sunglasses back on. The coffee machine was spitting out wonderful smells that promised caffeine. She came to the island to watch him stir a pan of scrambled eggs for a few minutes. He was frowning intensely.

“Are you angry?” she finally asked.

Matt’s frown deepened. “I’m not angry.”

“You’re making a frowning face. Most people frown when they’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he said again. He took started dishing out the eggs onto two plates. He handed them to her - she guessed he wanted her to put them on the table. He poured coffee as she did that. “I’m confused.”

She took the coffee mugs and set them next to the plates while he grabbed spoons, forks, and sugar.

“Okay,” she said as they took their seats. “I’ll bite. What are you confused about?”

“You.” He waved his fork in her direction. “I thought - I don’t know. You were angry last night.”

Jessica shrugged and took a bite of the eggs. They were undersalted. “To be fair, last night had been building for a while now. It was only a matter of time before you did something stupid enough to really piss me off.”

He set his fork down. “There it is again. You’re angry. What do you want from me, Jessica?”

She took the time to think about it. The long answer was terrifying. The long answer involved things that looked scarily like a future, like the one she saw with Luke a long time ago. Terrible, domestic things. Things she never allowed herself to dream of. Things she wasn’t even sure Matt could give her.

The short answer was pretty simple.

“Once I’m done being pissed with you? I’d like to kiss you again,” she said. She took a sip of coffee and smirked. “If we weren’t full of bullet holes, I would like to throw you onto your couch and ride you like a pony. The bullet holes are a setback.”

“A setback,” he agreed faintly. It was cute that he was blushing under his bruises. He kept his serious face on. “What about… last night?”

Jessica was quiet. She stirred her coffee. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

He caught her meaning. He sounded mournful. “I’ve tried. I can’t.”

“Why not?” She shook her head. “No, what I mean is… why do you do it?”

“The same reason you do it, I’m guessing.” Matt picked up his fork and poked at his eggs. “You’ve been there, haven’t you? Where you see something happening, and you know you have the power to help, so you can’t help it? You just do?”

She nodded. She realized suddenly that she kept shaking her head at him. Could even see it? She opened her mouth so say something about it. Matt shook his own head.

“I can tell when you nod or shake your head. It’s okay.” He kept toying with his eggs. “It’s… I have to say that it’s worse for me. I can’t just turn it off. I can’t escape it. I can hear… everything. I hear all the things that people try to keep secret. I can hear when men - normal men, who seem decent in the daytime - go home and beat their wives. I hear abused children crying at night when they think no one can hear. I smell the rat poison and the cleaning agents the drug dealers cut their drugs with, can follow the addicts home and smell what it does to them. I hear the pimps and the prostitutes and every gunshot fired in this city… I tried to stop being Daredevil once. Foggy and Karen treated it like it was an addiction, a bad habit I could cut out.” 

He made an ugly smirk. “I felt like I was dead. I can do a lot as Matt Murdock, but the law has limits. I have to hear and feel and smell those limits every day. If I have the power to do something, shouldn’t I? Doesn’t doing nothing make me complicit? Someone has to do something, and I can.” He shrugged. “So I do.”

That statement lingered in the silence for a minute. Jessica’s heart was pounding.

“You sound like Trish,” Jessica said quietly. “When she found out about my strength, that was all she could talk about. Me being a hero.”

“I don’t do it to be a hero.”

“Neither do I.” She drained her coffee and stood up to go pour more. “I just try not to be stupid about it. You can’t punch every problem you see. It doesn’t work like that.”

Matt laughed - a dry, humorless sound. “You sound like my dad, now. He didn’t want me to fight. He wanted me to be smart.”

“And yet here you are.” Coffee acquired, she leaned on the island instead of returning to the table. Luke’s subs were sitting in the garbage bin. Oops. “What would he say now?”

_“Don’t -_ ” he bit himself off and forced himself quieter. “Don’t bring him into this. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead, I learned how to fight, so I do. I graduated top of my class from Columbia. His soul can be content with that.”

“Sorry. Dead dad, sore subject.”

“Only when people use him to guilt me. I’m not a child. I can make my choices.”

Jessica frowned into her coffee. “Your choices suck. How many stitches have you gotten since you started this? Can you even remember? The fact that you’re still alive is a miracle.”

“Does it matter? Why are you lecturing me, Jessica? What do you want me to do? I can’t change the way I am.”

“Can’t you?”

Matt abruptly stood and began clearing the plates. She caught his arm as he moved past her. He stopped, but he didn’t turn his face towards her.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he murmured.

Her lips twisted bitterly. “You can’t give me what I want.”

“So I don’t even get to try?”

Ouch. “Well, what do _you_ want?” She could turn the tables on him. She could hear echoes of every therapist she’d been forced to go to telling her not to deflect, not to twist subjects back around on people. She didn’t care. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

He shrugged out of her hand. She let him. He set the dishes in the sink. He still wouldn’t look at her. “I want -” He rested his hands on either side of the sink and let his head droop down. “I want…. I just don’t want this.”

Her heart stuttered. “What?”

“This. The fighting. I thought -” He choked over his words, and the next came out in a tangled rush, like he was ripping them out painfully. “I thought maybe this could be like Elektra. No, not like Elektra. Better. Elektra was always trying to turn me into something I wasn’t. Trying to get me to be like her. But still… Everyone else… She was the only one that accepted that Daredevil is part of me. That the devil scratching inside of me couldn’t just go away. And it can’t - I can’t get rid of it, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. You ask me to stop - to stop throwing myself into danger to - to stop - to stop being myself. I can’t. I can’t, Jessica. This is who I am, and I’m done. I’m done apologizing and pretending. Everyone always wants me to pretend. I thought… I thought you would understand.”

Matt’s apartment was eerily silent after he finished. The sound of of her coffee mug scraping on the counter as she set it down made him flinch. She turned and grabbed her jacket from the couch. Her boots were next to it. She shoved them on her feet.

“Jessica?”

She shrugged her jacket on and turned. He stood there looking for all the world like a lost boy. It made her skin crawl. This was too much. The pain in his voice, this unwinnable situation. She had to get away. 

“I get it,” she said abruptly. “I get what you’re saying. I just don’t have an answer for you. I can’t… I have to go.”

God, his face crumpled. She hated this. God damn, she hated this. He looked like he was going to cry.

“We’ll talk more,” she blurted out. “I just. I can’t - do this. Right now. I’ve gotta...”

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded like the words were being scraped out of him with a rusty spoon. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She waffled near the entryway for a moment. Coward. She was a coward.

She left.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go to the next phase of the plan: third-party intervention. Karen Page to the rescue!
> 
> For real, I learned writing this story that the friends these vigilantes have are essential. None of them function without their support systems, so enter the support systems. I also love the intersections in the shows. When Colleen and Foggy and Danny showed up in Luke Cage season 2, I squealed. I live for the guest appearances. Who else is hyped for Iron Fist season 2? Yes, it's a corny show, but I'm hyped.
> 
> Thank you all for your feedback. It's been amazing. Please enjoy.

She left.

Some pains you could get used to, he reflected. Getting punched in the face always hurt, but you could ignore the pain. Stabbings - hell, getting shot, those he could handle.

People leaving always took his breath away.

He sat on the floor of the kitchen after her bootfalls left the building. Probed the ache in his chest like the socket of a lost tooth. He shouldn’t be surprised. It had been building for months now. He knew she was going to run eventually. They always did.

Normally he would punch the problem away, but it was 10 in the morning. He did the next best thing.

-

“So, what kind of mortal injury or outstanding legal problem do you have today?”

He was already regretting this.

Karen Page was, as always, immaculate and terrifying. Every move she made was crisp and controlled, down from the sweep of her hair behind her ear to the way she flicked the diner menu between her hands. Her power had only increased since she’d become one of the Bulletin’s top reporters. 

“This was a mistake.”

Matt made to scoot out of the booth, but a heeled foot on his shin halted him in his tracks.

“Oh no, Matt Murdock, you do not call me to an early lunch break just to run out on me.” She slapped the menu onto the table. “Order a coffee. Stay.”

Matt slid back into the booth with a sigh. Karen took her foot off of his leg and flagged down the waitress. He focused on tearing up a napkin as she rattled off an order for some coffees, a toast for him, and some french toast and eggs for herself. Once the waitress had poured the coffee and walked away, she turned her lazer focus back on him.

“Okay, Matt. Talk. What’s got you desperate enough to call _me_ for help?”

“I need… advice,” he forced out. This was definitely a mistake.

She tilted her head. “I’m raising my eyebrows at you. What _kind_ of advice?”

Time to bite the bullet. “Romantic.”

To her credit, Karen didn’t actually burst out into hyena cackles. The laugh she stifled into a napkin definitely wanted to be a wicked cackle, though. He frowned in her direction.

“I’m sorry,” she caught her breath. “Okay, wow. Yes, sorry. That was just the _last thing_ I expected to hear from you.”

“Are you done?” 

“Okay. 100%. So, romantic advice. What’s troubling you?”

“Hypothetically,” he said slowly. “Hypothetically, you have a big secret. Something you do that’s not strictly legal, that’s... driven people away in the past. Hypothetically, you meet someone that already knows your secret. Someone who’s just as fucked up as you are, someone you...trust. You get along. You like this person. And then you find out that this person doesn’t approve of your secret. Or your methods. Or something.”

“Something?” Karen asked. Her spoon scraped on the edges of her coffee cup. “What doesn’t this person ‘hypothetically’ approve of?”

He took his own coffee in hand with a sigh. “She says I take unnecessary risks.”

Karen snorted a little. “And don’t you?”

He frowned at her. “I do what I have to do.”

“Right…” She drew the word out. “What was it you do again? Enhanced senses? You know some martial arts?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re not invincible.” She held up her hand to stop his protests. “I don’t think you actually know that. Or if you know, you don’t care. Foggy told me about you basically being the Karate Kid, but like twisted child soldier version. You probably heard some crap about being expendable and having to rely on yourself or something.”

Damn, but she was intuitive. Matt didn’t argue.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Matt: You’re not expendable.”

He scowled at his coffee mug. “I know that.” Kind of. He could disagree. How did the rules go again? Step one, don’t let anyone die. Step two, don’t die. Looking at it like that, he was kind of expendable.

“Do you?” She didn’t sound like she believed him.

The waitress came back and brought their food. Karen immediately started eating. Matt picked at his toast with his fingers.

“She said the same thing to me,” he confessed. “Last night. We, uh, talked. She said that I’m trying to martyr myself, and that it would… hurt people that I loved, if I were to die.”

“Is she wrong?” Karen’s fork stopped scraping on her plate. “You’ve, ah, died before. We don’t need to rehash how terrible that was, do we?”

“We don’t,” he said decisively.

“It sounds like your friend is worried,” she said. “I can sympathize. You’re, um, familiar with my situation with Frank, right?”

His stomach soured. He didn’t like remembering Frank Castle. He especially didn’t like learning that he and Karen were circling each other in some kind of homicidal mating dance. He nodded, though, for Karen’s benefit. The last thing she needed or deserved was his judgment about her life choices.

“Don’t make that face. Anyway, yeah. Do I approve of Frank’s methods? No. Do I worry about him every time he tries to pretend he’s a one-man army and nearly gets himself killed? Absolutely. But I know he can’t give it up.” She began eating again. Her tone was a forced nonchalance. “I tell myself it’s no different than loving anyone else. There’s no guarantees. You could spend all your time worried about getting killed as Daredevil, and get hit by a bus tomorrow. I could slip in the shower. Any one of us could die any day.”

“So you’re saying I should tell my friend to just accept me as I am or leave?”

“No. Let me finish.” He could feel the weight of her eyes on him. “I may not approve wholly of Frank’s methods, and we’re not perfect, but he tries, too. He takes less risks. He communicates better. He tries to get backup. We work together, as much as we can. You want things to work out with your lady-friend? You need to bend a little, too. I know you have this stick up your ass about being Daredevil, but you can’t ultimatum your way through all of your relationships. You’re a lawyer. You should know about compromise.

“If she’s one of your vigilante friends like I think she is, then she already knows you can’t stop doing the things that you do. Still, she’s not wrong in thinking you’re being too reckless. My advice? Be more flexible. If you could get around the chip in your shoulder, you might realize that she’s just worried and wants you to be more careful.”

Matt huffed in frustration. “How can I be more careful?”

He could hear her eye roll. “You’re a smart guy. You figure it out. But you’re going to have to cut the stoic man bullshit and talk to her, or you’ll lose her, too.” Her tone gentled. “You might not have lost me if you hadn’t had so many secrets, Matt. You have to let people in if you want to make it work.”

They lapsed into silence. Karen kept eating. Matt ate a bite of his toast. Dry, flavorless. He digested Karen’s words. 

“I’m not… good at this,” he bit out.

Karen snorted. “Wow.”

He scowled at her again. “I’m trying.”

“And I’m not the one you should be talking to,” she said primly.

She was right. Karen was always right. Dammit. “I have to go.”

Karen waved him off. “Go, then. Don’t forget to grovel. Big romantic gesture, maybe. Peter Gabriel and a boombox. That was a movie reference.”

“Noted.” He put a couple bills on the table. “Thank you, Karen. This was… enlightening.”

“I live to serve. Go get her, tiger.”

He shook his head and walked as fast as he could out of the diner. He had a private investigator to find.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessica's turn.
> 
> I should disclaim that I am neither a medical nor mental health professional, and any advice I write into these stories is just heresay and should not be taken as anything other than story elements. In case anyone is out here getting their medical advice off of a fanwork website, which sounds a little unlikely. Just in case though.
> 
> I am so relieved that I actually wrote the last lines of this story yesterday. There may or may not be a sequel. Stay tuned.

Coward, coward, coward.

Her boots pounded on the pavement. Her path cut a swathe through the pedestrian foot traffic of Hell’s Kitchen. Her eyes barely saw the people around her. She saw purple in the corner of her eye.

Coward.

She hated herself even as she ran. A functional person would have stayed, talked it out, reached some magical conclusion that ended with them both happy. A functional person wouldn’t run every time someone showed affection, wouldn’t balk at talking about feelings, no matter how painful.

Matt Murdock wasn’t the only one who was fundamentally broken.

She barely registered reaching her building. She skipped the elevator, pounded up the stairs three steps at a time. She swore the lights in the hallway flickered purple.

She slammed the door to her apartment. It wasn’t safe. It was never safe. She wasn’t safe anywhere. The half-demolished apartment that barely felt like a home. She tripped over herself tugging her boots off as she made her way to the bedroom. Her leg ached and itched and bled through the borrowed sweat pants. Fuck. Another thing she’d fucked up. She dug around under her bed. Pant, pants, where were pants?

“Jessica?”

Malcolm.

He breezed into her room like he belonged there. She hated him and loved him in that moment. He was holding a stack of laundry.

“Sorry if I overstepped, but your floor was like a dirty laundry carpet. I washed some clothes for you - Um, Jess, is that blood?”

Oh, her leg. She sat back on her butt and looked at the growing splotch on Matt’s sweat pants. She shrugged.

Malcolm sighed. He threw the clothes onto the bed and shuffled past her to the bathroom. There was an alarming rattling and banging and a small “ow.” Sounded like he hit his head on something. He came back lugging a large first aid kit she in no way recalled having.

He shrugged at her look. “I like to be prepared, okay? When your boss is a vigilante on the side, you never know what could happen.” He knelt beside her and threw the kit open. “Okay, what are we looking at?”

She considered kicking him out for a whole minute. His adorable poofy head and puppydog expression grated on her. But, with him around, the world was looking a little less purple. She lifted her butt and dragged the sweats down. This was probably going to be painless, anyway. She was 90% sure Malcolm didn’t even see her as a sexual being.

True to form, he didn’t even look at her body. His eyes went right to the gunshot wound. He hissed in sympathy and reached out to gingerly prod the skin around it.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Jess, did you get shot?”

“You should see the other guy,” she said flatly.

He laughed. “I’ll bet. You got this looked at already, right?”

“Yeah, Claire cleaned it out last night. Just slap some gauze on it. It’ll be fine.”

He ignored her and started cleaning the blood off with saline and a clean gauze. Then he squirted antibiotic ointment onto another gauze pad and pressed it on. He carefully didn’t look at her face as he taped the wound.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

“Excellent observation, Watson.”

“I was worried.” He smoothed the last strip of tape down and bundled up the trash. He shot her a pout. “You weren’t answering your phone, and neither were any of your buddies. Then I saw on the news about some major firefight by the river. I thought the worst.”

She hefted herself to her feet and dug through the laundry for clean underwear and pants. She ignored Malcolm as he threw the trash away and latched the kit back up. She pushed past him to go run a brush through her hair and change her clothes. He was waiting for her when she came out.

“Look, you don’t have to clam up and shut people out,” he said, straight for the throat. “I was worried about you. I’d be pissed at you if I hadn’t gotten a hold of Luke this morning. He filled me in. I’m glad you’re okay, but can you cut the silent treatment bullshit?”

She sighed and pushed past him to go for her desk. He’d thrown away all the empty bottles, but she found a half-full bottle of whiskey in a drawer. She skipped a glass and took a pull straight from the bottle.

“You should go home,” she said. “I really don’t want to have another fight today.”

“We’re not fighting,” he protested. “I’m just expressing concern. You know, like a normal person?”

“But we’re not normal people, are we?” She set the bottle down on the desk and flopped onto the chair. “You’re a college-dropout junkie. I’m an alcoholic that can pick up cars. Kilgrave fucked our brains up. What even is normal?”

Malcolm strode forward and snatched her whiskey. He jerked it out of her reach. “Seriously? You’re gonna pull that card? Well, fine. First of all, get your terminology right. I’m a recovering addict, not a junkie. Don’t call me that when I’m working so hard not to be that. Second of all, normal is what you make it. Yes, what happened to us was shitty, okay? Incredibly shitty. And I get why you’re messed up. I’m messed up, too. We're never going to be the people we were before him again.

“But even still, are you really going to let that slimy bastard win? Just gonna - what? - give up and say ‘that’s it, I’m never going to let anybody care about me ever again?’ I mean, you even hold Trish at arm’s length, and she’s your sister. She loves you more than anyone. But you even hide from her. What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Give me back the booze, Malcolm.”

“No.” He looked scared, but he jerked it farther away from her. “Stop hiding, Jessica. Stop using the alcohol as an excuse.”

“It’s not - Goddamn it, Malcolm! Just give it back, or I’ll take it from you.” She stepped forward. He stepped back. She dragged her hair out of her face with a rough hand. “Why do you even care so much? I treat you like shit. Why do you keep coming back?”

“Because you’re a good person!”

She stuttered to a stop at that. “I’m - I’m not. I’m really not.”

“You are, though.” He tossed the bottle onto the couch without looking and held his hands up. “Really. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“I’m not,” she said, even quieter.

“You are. You’re brave and kind and _good_ , and I wish you would believe that.”

She shook her head. No. This was wrong. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong about me, Malcolm. I’m none of those things. I hurt people.”

“Everyone hurts people.” He sounded weary now. His hands fell to his side. “It doesn’t take superpowers to hurt people, Jess. The worst pain is the normal stuff. The stuff we say - or don’t say. That’s the stuff that really hurts. And I know you’re scared - I’m scared too, okay? But you can’t let fear run your life. At some point you have to stop trying to protect everyone around you and let them make their own choices.”

She stepped backwards and sat back on the desk. Malcolm’s earnest face was painful to look at, but she did. He seemed to appreciate that. “What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“What you said. Letting people make their choices.”

“Oh.” He shuffled his feet and wrang his hands together. He was suddenly nervous. “I heard it at NA. We were talking about our, uh, our families. About how we tried to get away from them, protect them from our addictions. Someone said that. Said that it wasn’t our job to protect people from us. That they made their choices to love fuck-ups like us - that we shouldn’t try to hurt them, of course not, but we can’t try to protect people at the expense of taking away their choices. You can’t get mad at people for choosing to love you even when you don’t love yourself. Or, something like that. I thought it was good.”

The wheels in her head were turning. Was that what she was doing to Matt? To Trish, to Malcolm, to the others? By holding them at arm’s length to try to protect them from the disaster she always brought with her, was she actually hurting them? She remembered Trish, always trying to help, always being turned away. Malcolm, who was always there, who she always treated like crap. Matt, who asked her to accept him, and instead got to see her run away instead of facing her fears and trying to meet him in the middle. Maybe she was selfish.

“I have to go.”

Malcolm looked surprised. “Where are you going?”

She grabbed her keys and jacket and cast one last longing look at the whiskey on the couch.

“I need to talk to someone.” She headed for the door, past Malcolm, but she hesitated. “Malcolm… Thanks. For putting up with me.”

He gave her a hesitant smile. “Anytime, boss.”

She ran out the door.

\---

Claire’s mom’s apartment was nice.

Jessica didn’t usually venture into Harlem, but Claire’s directions were good. Luke was even waiting outside of the building for her, an unmistakable landmark in his trademark hoodie and jeans.

“Jessica,” Luke said with a nod and a sly smile. “How was the coffee at Matt’s place?”

“The coffee?” She gave him an incredulous look. “...Is that some kind of metaphor?”

His smirk grew. “It’s nothing. C’mon, I’ll let you up.”

She followed him to the apartment. Claire gave her a smile from the kitchen when she entered. 

“Jessica, good to see you - not covered in blood this time. Coffee?”

She squinted at her suspiciously. Luke was laughing behind her. Claire shut him up with a look. 

“Luke, can it. Seriously. Have you been using the coffee metaphor again? Jesus.”

He smirked again, but he came into the kitchen to give her a peck on the forehead. Jessica had to look away. It was uncomfortably domestic.

“Here,” Claire handed her a mug and led her to the living area. “So, what did you want to talk about? You didn’t specify over the phone.”

Jessica wrapped her hands around her mug and decided to go for it. “How do you do it, Claire?”

“How do I do what?”

“This. All of this.” She waved a hand to her leg, around the room to Luke. “Patching everyone up after we’ve gone out and done something stupid? How haven’t you gone crazy yet?”

Claire shrugged casually and took a sip of coffee. “You’re assuming I’m not actually crazy. I mean, you see what I do. I’m probably certifiable at this point.” She smirked, but continued. “To answer your question, I do it because it’s what I was born to do. I’m a damn good nurse, Jess. I may not have the abilities that you guys have, but I have that same drive that you do. I see a problem, I can’t not help. Even when it would probably be smarter to let it go.”

Jessica shook her head. “Yes, but how do you stand the… The not-knowing? Don’t you worry that one day you’re not going to be able to save us if we get hurt? That one day, we’re not all coming back?”

“Every damn day.” Claire’s voice was steel. “I can’t let that fear rule me, though. What we do is too important. I saw it when I worked in the hospital. All the lives that Matt was saving when he first started out, when he took down Fisk and the Russians. And think of all the people who would have suffered if the Hand had won. The city’s safer with the Defenders out there, taking on the threats too small for the Avengers and too big for the police. Who am I to try to take that away just because I’m scared?”

Jessica looked deep into her coffee mug and didn’t answer.

“So… I take it your talk with Matt didn’t go so well.”

She shook her head. “No, not really.”

“What happened?”

“Not a lot.” She scrubbed her hair back behind her ear. “I, um, lost my temper. I told him that I was angry.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” she said. “He thinks there’s no choice but giving up being a hero or killing himself trying to save the city. I tried to tell him about how it was after he… after we thought he died, but he still acts like there’s no other way but to launch himself at death headfirst. Trying to talk about it, he acts like I’m trying to murder him. I don’t know what to do.”

“So, you’re scared.”

Jessica set the mug down before she could crack it accidentally.

Claire sighed and leaned forward. “Look, Jessica. I get it. I really, really get it. If you do decide to get involved with Matt, I applaud you for your bravery. I couldn’t do it. Did you know I was in love with him once?”

She shook her head. Then she shrugged. It made sense. There was history in the way they looked at each other. Kind of like the way she and Luke danced around each other.

Claire sighed. “I was. But I couldn’t take it. I saw the self-destruction he was capable of, the violence he doled out… It was too much. Too intense. Men like him weren’t meant to settle down, I thought. But it’s different with you. I have never seen him like he is with you. You’re free to make your own choices, of course, but I believe…. If anybody could drag Matt Murdock off of his cross, it’s you. He respects you. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen him actually listen to. God knows I tried.”

“But he’s always going to be Matt Murdock,” Luke said.

Both women turned to him. He shrugged at them from the kitchen.

“Yep, I’m still here.” He crossed his arms. “Honestly, I’d be really happy if you two got together, Jess. You both deserve to be happy. But Claire’s right. You can’t change who he is. He’s either going to work with you, or not. And if the answer’s not, then you’ve gotta be willing to walk away. You willing to take the risk?”

Jessica crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I’m.... This is ridiculous. This is the third talk about feelings I’ve had today. My therapists would be jumping for joy.”

“You’re deflecting,” Claire said gently.

“Amazing. It’s like I’m back on the couch,” she said dryly. “But, well… I need to think about it. I don’t usually, uh, think this much, when I… Well, honestly, I don’t do relationships, like, ever.”

Luke snorted and muttered something that sounded like “Tell me about it.”

She uncrossed her arms to rub at her temples. “This would be so much easier if it was just sex.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Are you having sex?”

“ _No,_ and that’s the worst part. If I was fucking him, I wouldn’t be so mad about how many emotions he’s forced me to have. Instead, we’ve barely even touched each other, and we’re talking about _feelings._ ””

“You talk about having feelings like it’s a bad thing,” Luke laughed.

“It is. It’s the worst thing.”

Claire was smiling. “You’ve been having feelings talks all day, but I think you already know the answer to the question you’re not asking. About whether it’s worth it or not. Answer me this: who do you think about when you think about being happy? Really happy?”

She thought. There was Trish, but she and Trish also had miles of issues behind them. There was a quiet, guilty squirm in her gut whenever she was with Trish. In the privacy of her head, she could admit that she liked Malcolm, that having him around was nice. But neither of them were right. Happy, huh? When was the last time she’d felt happy?

String lights and a tacky billboard. Quiet hip hop framing a rooftop in a comforting blanket of sound. Matt’s grin, lightning-fast and easy to read even with the rest of his face covered. That Dread Pirate Roberts outfit flying as he showed off a fancy flipping kick. His easy laugh as he tripped over the landing and fell, the flutter in her heart as she gave him a hand up. His lingering hand on her elbow.

“Fuck.”

Claire and Luke had the audacity to laugh at her. Traitors, all of them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, I couldn't leave Foggy out. And then I fell in love with how much of a massive dork Matt is when Foggy's around and they're not fighting. This chapter was super fun to write. Please enjoy.

“Foggy, I need your help.”

The phone’s speakers weren’t precise enough to pick up much, but even through them, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath catch in his throat. He was in his office, judging by the mild hum of background noise. 

There was a slam, and then Foggy spoke into the speaker, whispering, “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No, Foggy, I…” He belatedly realized how bad this sounded. “I’m fine, Foggy. It’s not a, um, Daredevil problem.”

“Oh.” Foggy let out a gusty sigh of relief. “Jesus, Matt, don’t scare me like that. I thought you were bleeding out in an alley or something.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have led with that.”

“No shit. So what’s the urgent problem you have at… 1:00 on a Friday?”

Shit, it was Friday? He’d kind of lost track. Was he really fistfighting armed drug dealers and a freaky fishbowl man just last night? The stinging, aching wound in his abdomen said yes. 

“I need your help, Foggy. I can’t do this alone.”

“What? What can’t you do? The suspense is killing me.”

He sighed. “I need to buy flowers, but the florist shop gives me a headache and makes me sneeze.”

There was a prolonged pause from Foggy’s end. If it weren’t for the faint background hum of office work, he would think that they’d disconnected.

“Let me get this straight - you called me in the middle of a work day, scared the crap out of me, and it was all so I could pick out flowers for you?”

“...When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

There was a thump. Did he just slam his head on his desk?

“Foggy, are you okay?”

Foggy inhaled long and slow. “Okay. Okay, Matt. Can it wait a few hours? Like, how urgent is this? Burning bus full of widows and orphans urgent, or mildly inconvenient urgent?”

“Um, a long slow death from a gut wound urgent.”

“Okay. So it can wait. Look, Matt. Go home. I have a meeting at 2:00 - I should be done with everything by about 3:30. I’ll pick up dinner, we’ll meet at your place, and then we can find these semi-urgent flowers. Sound good?”

It wasn’t exactly how he pictured it, but Foggy had a point. His gunshot wound was hurting, and he could probably use an aspirin and a shower. 

“Okay, Fogs. I’ll see you later.”

“Whatever, just don’t die in the next few hours.”

The line disconnected, and Matt headed home.

-

He woke up suddenly to the sound of the key turning in his front door lock. He was halfway upright with his fists up before he realized that A. attacking ninjas wouldn’t calmly unlock the front door and B. His wound really did not like him using the muscles it was connected to.

“Matt, where are you?” It was Foggy. He could smell to-go sushi and expensive aftershave.

“Here,” Matt croaked. He heard Foggy’s heavy footsteps pace into the living area. He rubbed his eyes. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah, you must have. You worried me when you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Oh, shit.’ He rolled over on the couch and patted around the floor for his phone.

“It’s on the coffee table,” Foggy said. He lingered for a minute, obviously worried, but when Matt didn’t seem to be dying, he moved past him to drop the takeout bag on the kitchen table. “You must have been really out of it.”

“I may have overdid it a little,” He grudgingly admitted.

“Yeah, like last night, when you decided to fight guys with guns with a couple of sticks?” Foggy shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t want to fight. I’m trying to relax a little about the whole vigilante thing, but I can’t just turn off the worrying.”

Matt grimaced as he stood up and wobbled sleepily over to the table. Foggy had already filled up some glasses of water and was unpacking the sushi he’d brought.

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “Worrying, I mean.”

Foggy turned to look at Matt. “My face is so incredulous right now, Matt. Like, flabbergasted. Who are you and where’s the real Matt Murdock?”

“The real Matt Murdock is stealing this California roll,” he groused. “But, uh, no, it’s been recently brought to my attention that the people around me think I have a death wish. For good reason. I haven’t, uh, exactly done much to discourage that line of thinking.”

Foggy continued to stare at him. “Again, who are you and where is Matt Murdock? Did you get kicked in the head? Abducted by aliens?”

“No. Is it so unbelievable that I might want to actually listen to the people worrying about me?”

“Uh, _yeah_. Yeah, Matty, that is completely out of character for you. Not that I’m complaining. Hell, no, bring on the change. I just want to know the secret. What happened to change your mind about killing yourself?”

Matt shrugged and took a bite of his California roll. His appetite was finally coming back. He’d barely had more than a nibble today.

“Oh my God, it’s a woman, isn’t it?” Foggy must have seen something on his face because he groaned. “Of course. The only thing that could veer Matthew Murdock off of the course of utter destruction would be a woman. Is she beautiful? Does she have questionable character? Oh, God, do I know her?”

Matt shook his head. “I’m not answering any questions until you eat your sushi.”

“For Christ’s sake.”

“And stop blaspheming.”

“Ugh.”

Out on the streets of town after dinner, Foggy started up again. 

“So, really. Do I know her?”

Matt shrugged uncomfortably. “Actually, yeah, I think you do.”

“Who is it? Don’t trip on that curb. Is it Angela from my firm?”

“Who is Angela?”

“I thought you knew her. Paralegal that works with Fitzgerald? Obviously not her. Okay, how about - the cute girl who runs security checks at the courthouse on Wednesdays and Thursdays?”

Matt did his best to shoot him an incredulous look. At least he hoped his face looked incredulous. “Who?”

Foggy made a noise of agitation. “Fine. She’s really cute, though. Um, how about that terrifying woman we met at the fancy lawyer-bar. Jennifer-something?”

Matt blanched. “Jennifer Walters? Foggy, she would eat us both alive.”

“You’re right. I could hope, though. She’s brutally efficient. She would have been a fantastic sugar momma for you, Mr. Every-Case-I-Take-Is-Pro-Bono-and-I’m-Starving-to-Death.”

“I don’t need a sugar momma. And I’m not starving.”

“I’m giving you a raised eyebrow.”

“I’ll tell you where you can shove that eyebrow.”

“Ooh. Feisty.’

They walked further in companionable silence. It had been a long time since they’d bantered like this. Matt felt himself grinning as he walked along. Foggy was even letting him hold his arm, was still absently pointing out things in his way. He didn’t have to, but it helped, not having to be on high alert all the time. He’d missed this.

“But really, Matt,” he said eventually. “If I’m going to be buying flowers, I need to at least know who I’m buying them for. So, who’s the unfortunate lady?”

Matt’s mouthed moved a few times without sound before he finally spit out, “It’s, uh, Jessica Jones.”

He wasn’t prepared for Foggy to screech to a halt. He nearly dropped his cane.

“Jessica Jones.” Foggy’s voice was flat. “ _The_ Jessica Jones? Yea tall, wears a lot of leather, bad attitude? _That_ Jessica Jones?”

“Do you know another Jessica Jones?” he asked weakly.

“Are you _out of your mind?_ ”

“We’re blocking foot traffic.”

Foggy dragged him to the side of a building, away from the pedestrians. “Answer my question, Matt.”

“I may actually be out of my mind,” he said reasonably. “But in recent months, I have found myself, ah, fond of Ms. Jones. She’s a really great person, Foggy.”

“She killed a man.”

Matt waved his hand dismissively. “Under extreme duress.”

Foggy’s heart was beating overtime. “Oh my God. You’ve done it again. This is Elektra all over again.”

“It’s not. Take that back. Jessica is much better than Elektra.”

Foggy started rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Of course. It’s way different. This time, you’re doing illegal shit with a woman for a _good cause_.”

Matt nodded. “Exactly. But I was a jerk to her, so Karen says I need to make a grand romantic gesture. Hence, the flowers. Foggy, please don’t hit your head against the wall of that building.”

“I’m thinking about it.” Foggy groaned. “Fine. Fine. This is insane, my best friend is insane, he’s taking romance advice from his ex-girlfriend who may also be crazy, judging by her continual bad taste in men. This is insane, but the crazy alcoholic lady who occasionally busts up my boss’s office is the one person who’s managed to convince you that you are mortal and to value your life, so I guess I have to support this. But flowers, Matt? Do you really think _Jessica Jones_ would want flowers?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the second-guessing started. “Well, um… I don’t know what else to do. She’s not your average woman. I don’t think chocolates would work.”

Foggy sighed gustilly and grabbed his elbow. “Okay, buddy, let’s get Karen on the phone. We’ll figure this out.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jess and Matt are finally in the same room together. This story is nearly over.
> 
> The next chapter is just an epilogue, but you may have noticed that I made this part of a series. I have a little sequel in the works - mostly because I needed an excuse to write some fluff and angst with these two. Keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> As always, thanks for all of the appreciation and feedback.

She’d spent most of the day hiding.

To be fair, it was already afternoon by the time she’d come back from Harlem. Claire had made dinner, so she’d stuck around. There wasn’t much day left after that, and she’d interviewed a couple of clients before office hours were officially over. She’d checked her phone a couple of times, but she had no messages. 

She wanted to crawl into a bottle, and then into bed, but Malcolm had hidden her last bottle of whiskey, and she didn’t feel like busting into his place to find his latest hiding spot. The bodega on the corner would have some. She didn’t feel like walking all the way there. She was still weighing her options when someone knocked on her front door.

“Office is closed,” she called.

“Jessica, it’s me,” the person on the other side said. 

She froze on the spot.

“Jessica, please. Can we talk?”

Matthew Fucking Murdock.

Almost in a daze, she walked over to the door and unlocked it. She threw it open.

There he was. He was wearing a suit and everything. His glasses covered his eyes, but from the nose down, he looked nervous. He was holding a cactus and a bottle of something amber-colored.

“Is that a cactus?” 

That wasn’t what she’d meant to say.

Matt looked surprised, like he’d somehow forgotten that he was holding it. “Oh. It’s for you.”

He handed it out to her hopefully. She just looked at it. He kept holding it out. She finally took it and looked at it closer. There was a pink sticky note stuck to the pot. In shaky writing that she assumed was Matt’s was the message “Sorry I was a prick” and a lopsided sad face.

“That’s...actually kind of clever.” Was this really happening? Matt was smiling at her now. He held out the bottle.

“This is also for you.”

It was an expensive bottle of scotch. Also appreciated. She took the peace offerings and walked back into her apartment to set them on her desk.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. Why the hell not?

He walked in with his hands clasped in front of him. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. He paused and shut the door behind him before he returned to standing awkwardly in the middle of her living area.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “This morning. I was an idiot. I jumped to conclusions, I, um, I didn’t mean to…” He sighed. “What I mean is, ah…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted him.

He looked shocked. “What are you sorry for?”

She leaned her butt against her desk and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry for… I’m sorry for running out this morning. Instead of… talking. Like a functional adult. And for making you feel like I was… Like I wasn’t giving you choices.”

“No, Jessica.” He looked aghast. “ _I’m_ sorry. I - I talked to someone today. And they made me realize that I, uh, I make ultimatums. A lot. And it’s not fair to act like things are always all-or-nothing. And, um, you’re right. I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right. I’ve been, um, I’ve been, uh, acting like…”

This had to be hard for him to spit out. His stutter was getting worse, and his hands were white-knuckled where he was wringing them. He looked frustrated. She stood back up and walked forward to take his twisted hands in hers. His face followed hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. She couldn’t see more than the outline of dark eyelashes under his glasses. “I want to… I want to promise you, Jessica. That I’ve thought about it, and… I don’t want to hurt you. Or anyone. I’m going to try. I’m going to try to be more careful. Because I don’t want you to have to lose me again. I don’t - I don’t want to do that to you. Again. And I don’t - I don’t actually want to die. I want to live.”

He swallowed, hard, and resolved his face into something serious. “If you’ll forgive me, I… I’d like for a chance. Just a chance, to try something with you. Because I care about you, Jessica, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“People hurt each other,” she said quietly. “I can’t let you take all the blame, Matt. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have run. I was just… scared. But it was unfair to you, to just leave like that. I’m… I’m pretty fucked up.”

Matt gave her a shaky smirk. “I’m not the, uh, pinnacle of mental health either. I’m not worried about that. I have… I have faith in us, Jess.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I want to. I do. I just can’t… I can’t lose you again. Will you just… promise me that you’ll try? Try not to end up dead? That you’ll try to make whatever this is work?”

“Jessica, for you, I’ll do anything.”

It should have sounded corny. If she’d heard it in a movie, she’d scoff. But here and now - with Matt’s soft, rough voice, with his hands in hers, standing so close that their breath mingled in the air between them - it sounded like an oath.

She let go of his hands and reached up to pluck the red glasses off of his face. He flinched a little at the movement. His sightless eyes roamed over her face. This close, she could see a fine network of scars on the skin around them, nearly too pale to be visible. His own hand came up to pluck the glasses from her hand. He folded them and stuffed them into his breast pocket. His hands wavered uncertainly in the space between their bodies.

Jessica made the decision for him. She closed the distance, stepping into those arms that automatically closed around her in a warm embrace. He smelled good - with no artificial scents on top, he smelled like clean linen and warm, masculine skin. She brought her face up to meet his and pressed their lips together gently.

If their first kiss had been a hard thing, born of battle and tinged with blood, their second was everything the first was not.

His lips were soft, pliant at first. He hesitated in it. The hesitancy asked a clear question that she answered with a firmer press, and then a light nibble to his bottom lip. Encouraged, he answered back in kind. Her head spun a little as he deepened the kiss, as one hand cupped her face tenderly and the other tangled into her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp into his mouth. He pressed himself even closer to her. Her hands roamed over his torso under his suit jacket until they brushed over a spot that had him jerking back suddenly with a hiss.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry - I forgot -”

“It’s fine,” he said. He was smiling, but it was more of a pained grimace.

“No, shit, I’m sorry. You’re hurt; we shouldn’t-”

“Jessica,” he interrupted gently. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Here, at least sit down.” She tugged him over to the couch and fussed over him until he gave up and sat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His lips moved a few times before he answered. “Well, I can’t lie. It hurts, and I’m probably not up for too much. I’m sorry.”

“You idiot.” She laughed, though - a shaky thing. “I can’t believe you have a gunshot wound and you’re apologizing because you can’t get laid.”

“Well…” His grin turned mischievous. “I may be too injured for that, but if we’re careful, we can still make out on the couch like a couple of teenagers.”

She laughed again and joined him. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Murdock.”

He grinned into her kiss and rolled over to press her into the couch. It was a shaky start, terrifying in the promise it held. She was still scared, but the rabbit thrum of Matt’s pulse under her lips at his throat told her that he was just as nervous. She was certain that this wouldn’t be easy, but in the evening here, safely enclosed in Matt’s arms, she was more than willing to give it a chance.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everybody who took the time to read my silly little story. I'm happy to have made several people smile and to have brought some enjoyment to people's days. I can't thank you enough for the kudos and comments and bookmarks. It felt really good to finish this story and to have had it compel you to give me feedback. You've made my reintroduction into making fanworks very fun.

_Two Weeks Later_

The next Defenders meeting was awkward.

Jessica was the last to arrive, coming up through Matt’s apartment to his rooftop with a case of Matt’s favorite beer. She could already hear Luke’s music playing from the stairs. They were laughing about something. They all shut up when she popped up into view.

The visible part of Matt’s face was bright red. There were other people here - she recognized Matt’s friends, Karen and… Froggy? Foggy? - and everyone was staring at her. Danny broke the silence by bounding over with a huge grin on his face.

“I’m so happy for you two!”

Jessica took a step back and looked around for a sympathetic face. Colleen’s face was warring between exasperation at Danny and a huge grin. Luke was smirking at full force, and Claire had joined him on the smug train. Karen was laughing. Foggy was staring at her, obviously trying to be friendly but failing to hide his dismay. Matt gave her a sympathetic shrug and smile.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” she asked.

“No, this is a party,” Colleen said.

“A ‘congratulations on pulling your heads out of your asses’ party,” Claire whooped.

Jessica ignored all of them and started adding her alcohol contribution to the ice chest. The others were smart enough to sense her discomfort and backed off. Matt was the only one who approached her.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey, yourself,” she said back. She pulled one of Claire’s girly wine coolers out of the chest and cracked it open. At least it was already cold. Plus, alcohol that didn’t burn her taste buds off was a nice change sometimes. She’d never admit it.

Matt leaned into her shoulder, a warm anchor-point. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to do this.”

She waved him off uncomfortably. “It’s fine. They all knew anyway.”

“It makes them happy to celebrate it,” he said. “If you can put up with it for just a little while…”

“It’s fine, Matt. Really.” And it really was. It was kind of annoying and uncomfortable, but this was the team. If it had been anyone else… but it was them. So it was okay.

He smiled hesitantly. “Would you be okay coming with me? Karen really wants to meet you.”

Normally, meeting your new…. Your new something’s ex-girlfriend was not on the list of fun things to do. And Karen was definitely intimidating, in a put-together, aggressively feminine way. Intimidating in the way Trish was when she did her hair and makeup and strode into an executive’s office on her highest heels. But she was smiling, laughing at something Foggy was saying to her, and she’d skipped the beer and wine coolers and had a bottle of something cheap and strong with her that she was drinking out of a Solo cup. Jessica could get behind that.

“Sure,” she said, giving Matt the tiniest of smiles. She thought maybe he could hear the tone or something. He grinned back at her and more or less dragged her over to his friends.

“Karen, Foggy, this is Jessica,” he said. He looked like a boy bringing his prom date home to the parents.

Foggy was giving her a wide-eyed stare. “Um, yeah, we’ve met.”

Karen blazed past him to offer Jessica a handshake. “Jessica Jones! I’m glad to finally meet you. Under better circumstances. The, uh, last few times, we didn’t have an opportunity to talk.”

The last few times being at the Harlem police station when they’d come back without Matt, and at Matt’s memorial service, where Jessica had skulked some distance away and never properly joined them. Jessica winced.

“Um, yeah. Not ideal.” She hesitantly took the offered hand. Karen’s grip was firm, but her hands were dry and calloused. Not as fragile as she looked. “It’s good to meet you. I think you know my sister, actually. Trish Walker?”

Karen nodded and gestured for Jessica to follow her to the edge of the roof and sit. “Yeah, we met back then, too. We don’t talk a lot, but we meet up sometimes. I try to throw her exclusives for her show when I can. She’s wasted on those fluff pieces they have her run.”

Jessica sat next to her cautiously. “Um, yeah, so she says.”

The reporter smiled at her warmly. “We can cut the bullshit small talk now. Matt’s the only one who can overhear, and I honestly don’t care if he does. Really, Jessica, I wanted to thank you.”

Oh no. This sounded awkward. “Um, you don’t…”

“No, really.” Karen’s eyes were steely. “I think you’re a good influence on him. Foggy says we’re all crazy, but he’s happy, too, don’t get me wrong. I just think you’re good for each other, and I’m offering you friendship. I know how isolating it can be, trying to make friends in this city, and it’s especially hard to date someone if neither of you have a lot of friends. So, really, if you ever need to bitch about Matt, or need advice, or even just want to hang out, I’m here.”

That was… oddly touching. Jessica took a pull of her wine cooler to cover how flustered she was getting.

Karen’s grin was shark-like. “And I may want to complain about my boyfriend, too. Mine is Frank Castle.”

She choked on the wine cooler and sputtered for a second. “Frank Castle? Kevlar and big guns and shooting people to death, that Frank Castle?”

Karen’s grin widened.

Jessica shook her head. “You have some serious balls, Karen. I think I might take you up on that offer of friendship. Anyone crazy enough to try to date Daredevil and then the Punisher is a person I want on my side.”

Karen laughed at her. “I tried to get him to come, but he’s shy. And he and Matt kind of get into fistfights whenever they’re together. I think that’s just how they say hello.”

“Well, he likes Danny, and they beat the shit out of each other all the time. You might be onto something.”

“Well, let me give you my number. I’m serious, Jessica. If you need anything, I’m there.”

Jessice took the offered business card and tucked it into her pocket, oddly touched. Karen walked away to go join Foggy where he was talking to Luke and Danny. Matt came to take her place. He was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“See? She likes you.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove. “Cool it, Murdock. You’re way to excited about this.”

“I’m just happy,” he said with a wide grin. “This is great. This is, like, everybody I care about, right here. And nobody’s fighting, and everyone’s having a good time…”

She rolled her eyes again, but he was right. She felt her cheeks pulling into a smile as she looked around the rooftop. Foggy and Karen and Danny and Luke were gesturing widely. She could hear laughter from here. Someone must have put on Danny’s playlist, because there was some older hip hop playing tonight. Colleen was showing Claire something on her phone. The door nearby squeaked open, and Misty Knight came up with bags of takeout. She was greeted with a chorus of excited whoops. Jessica felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

_Trish: Be there in 10. Bringing Malcolm._

Jessica stared at her phone. “Who invited Trish?”

Matt shrugged uncomfortably. “I may have asked Karen to text her. I thought you’d want everyone here. It is a party, you know?”

She shook her head again, and, impulsively, pressed a quick peck to his cheek. Someone wolf whistled. She turned her head to glare at the group. Several of them were laughing, and Luke was trying too hard to look innocent. She was definitely getting him back somehow. She’d have to get Colleen to help her brainstorm an appropriate revenge.

Matt’s finger brushing her cheek dragged her attention back to the moment. He was still smiling. “You ready to go back?”

The party was embarrassing. It was silly. But it was the team. It was family. Jessica stood up.

“Alright, Devil Dork. Let’s go get some more beer.”

Matt laced his fingers in hers as they walked back to the team. Their smiles shone in the string lights and the light of the billboard. Jessica’s heart felt warm and full. For once, she didn’t feel like running. Everything she could run to was here.


End file.
